Byzantine Gold (16 page)

Chapter Thirty-One

Maksym pushed the plate of half-eaten eggs aside and finished his papaya juice.

“Rana, I’m going to show you pictures of two people. I want you to memorize their faces.”

He’d spent the first few days after they arrived scouting the camp and surrounding area by car and on foot. He analyzed the distance between the hills and the camp. The shot was doable, but his chance of failure was high. Ada’s presented a better opportunity. It wasn’t the failure factor that ultimately influenced his decision. The more he thought about how to kill Atakan the more determined he was for a face to face confrontation.

“People here in Cyprus?”

“Yes.”

“Will we meet with them while we visit?” she asked in a cheerful voice.

She’d asked Maksym on the trip over why he never invited guests to the boat. Once more, he told her no one was to come onboard. No one, he emphasized, not trusting the gregarious Rana not to slip and bring back a new friend she met in town. His company alone bored her at times, he knew. He wished he could take her to fun places, show her off and let her strut in her pretty new clothes.

“No, they won’t visit us,” he said.

He slid the photos from an envelope and laid them in front of her. He’d taken the first set in Paris from different angles. Vadim and the Dashiell woman leaving the hotel, strolling along the quay by the Seine, and drinking coffee near the Louvre.

Maksym recalled the day he watched them walking arm in arm by the river and relived the bitterness he felt. Every once in awhile, she’d lean into him, say something, and he’d bend to answer. Their cheeks would touch. At one point, his response made her laugh and she gave him a playful hip bump. The picture of a happy couple to most people, a self-righteous pig and his whore to Maksym.

He turned the photo from the café around and stared at Charlotte’s face as she sipped from her cup. He’d wasted too much time when he had her prisoner. He should’ve raped her right away. Spread-eagled her face down and taken her again and again, while her screams went ignored, like his were.

The rest of the photos were from other sources. Two of Charlotte he downloaded from the MIAR newsletter and website. One was of Atakan at a market in Istanbul and another shot of him exiting the Ministry. The last two were excellent full face views. A friend in Istanbul had taken them.

The attempt in Paris was a bold move. Based on that, Atakan and his superiors would expect another bold act. In all likelihood, they’d expect him to strike again in Istanbul. He appreciated their respect for his daring. Conversely, he was insulted they thought him so stupid as to attempt anything in Istanbul. He was too well-known to the authorities there. Only an idiot would try. 

“If we aren’t joining them, why must I learn their faces?” Rana asked. Her eyes narrowed on Maksym. “You’re not taking me ashore here either, are you?”

“No.”

“Why do we go places you cannot be seen?”

“Damn you and your sniveling—”

Sharp pain accompanied by a wave of nausea overwhelmed him. He slammed his fist on the table as the pain grew worse. Rana gave a little start as a fork bounced off a plate onto the deck. Maksym shut his eyes and sucked in air. The clinic in Kusadasi said it helped to concentrate on a simple action or visualize someplace he liked. He exhaled and focused his mind on his breathing. He counted while he inhaled and exhaled fixed on the measured rhythm. The pain passed and he opened his eyes. The queasiness hung on but the urge to vomit eased after the initial bout.

“I made a mistake bringing you along. This is why,” he said in a raised voice and struck the table again. “I told you my situation. I cannot be seen, yet you insist on nagging me to go where I cannot.”

Rana flinched. Eyes wide, her lower lip trembled.

Enraged, he knocked his chair over as he rose. Her fearful eyes widened further.

She didn’t have time to react or defend herself. He grabbed her by the upper arms and shook her hard. “Don’t you cry.”

She whimpered and a single tear rolled from the corner of one eye.

Maksym backhanded her hard with a clenched fist. She reeled and would’ve fallen but he still gripped one arm tight. “Now you have a reason to cry,” he said, and then let go of her. He spun and rushed to the rail and vomited over the side.

“I’m sorry Maksym,” Rana said in a soft voice behind him and sniffled.

“Shut up. Bring me my medication.”

When she left, he squatted, doubled over. He fought the renewed pain that twisted his gut and forced himself to take slow breaths of the sea air. He wished to be alone, to crawl into a shady spot and curl into a ball.

He heard her hurried footsteps on the salon floor, and quickly pulled himself up with the help of the rails. He wouldn’t let Rana see him this weak. Only Evgeniy saw him in the worst episodes, the times his strength failed.

Rana brought him the medication and a glass of water. Maksym shook out as many of the pills as he dared to take, swallowing all of them with the water.

“Sit down,” he told her. He stayed by the rail in case he had to vomit. “Study the faces of the couple.”

“I am.”
“They live in a camp on Salamis Bay. Later this afternoon, you and Evgeniy will take the zodiac to the beach. There’s a small resort near the camp called Ada’s. Find a table in the restaurant and watch for either of the two.”

“What do we do, if we see them?”

“Nothing, just watch. I want to know everything they do, who they talk to, and if they go anywhere else other than back to camp.”

“Evgeniy can do this. I’d rather stay here with you.”

Maksym moved from the rail to the table. “Keep testing my patience.”

Rana shrank back, shoulders hunched to her ears. Still red, her cheekbone where he’d hit her had already begun to swell. She eyed him, wary, and paid close attention to his hands. Black raccoon-like circles of smudged mascara darkened her eye lids and below her bottom lashes. 

“You’re a mess. Go fix your face.”

After she left, he dropped into the chair. He folded his arms on the table and lay his head down, tired to the bone. At night, sleep came in fits. Each day he awoke more tired than the day before.

“Here,” Evgeniy set two bottles of water by him and sat.

“Did you get the Glock?” Maksym asked without raising his head.

“Yes. This illness...is strange to associate with you. I always pictured you dying in a fiery shootout.”

Maksym lifted his head and smiled. “I may yet.”

Chapter Thirty-Two

Charlotte and Atakan hovered in the back, near the door, and the best source of fresh air. Refik and Talat worked the stoppers from two sealed amphoras. In all likelihood, seawater seeped past the pitch seals and mixed with the original contents. The water helped temper the stench of the decayed matter inside. Charlotte and Atakan knew how potent the odor was even when diluted. If the seals held, it could be eye-popping and they kept their distance. The uninitiated other team members crowded the table, jostling for space near Refik and Talat.

Rachel also knew what to expect. Sugar-voiced, she offered her spot next to Talat to Derek. The eager fool accepted. She shot a mischievous grin at Charlotte and joined her and Atakan.

Saska tried to dissuade Nassor from standing up front.

“He won’t listen,” Charlotte whispered.

He flicked a dismissive hand at Saska and stayed close to Refik. She threw her hands up in mock surrender and  moved towards the rear.

“You said if it was wine you’d taste it, Refik,” Atakan prodded.

“I am. What about you? Are you a lion or a kitten?” he challenged in return.

Atakan slid behind Charlotte. “My herald. Speak herald.”

“Meow.”

“Who here is a lion with me?” Refik asked.

Derek and his friend Ben both volunteered. Talat turned to Nassor. “Do you roar or meow?”

“I am a lion.”

Refik pried the seal on the first amphora. Everyone covered their noses as the foul smelling cloud of decomposed organic matter traveled through the lab.

Charlotte, Atakan, Rachel and Saska stepped outside and took a few gulps of fresh air. They gave the odor a chance to dissipate and then returned.

Refik tipped the amphora over a long metal pan with a tightly meshed screen lid. Leakage had occurred around the seal and seawater poured out. The liquid held seeds the mesh caught.

“Looks like pomegranate seeds,” Refik said and fingered through the stash.

“Good guess.” Talat measured the mouth of the pot. “The opening is big enough to pass fruit of that size.”

“We’ll know more after analysis,” Refik said.

He began the methodical process of breaking the pitch coating on the second amphora. From the slow progress, the seal on the pot appeared it might’ve remained tight. Sweat beaded Refik’s forehead and he paused to wipe his face with a paper towel. At last, he broke through and carefully removed the loosened stopper.

Another potent stench filled the tent, different than the first. The acrid odor was reminiscent of rancid salad dressing with the sharp bite of vinegar.

“Ah hah!” Refik said over his shoulder. “We have wine.”

Talat had a paper cup ready and Refik poured a small amount into it. They exchanged a
you first
look.

A murmur passed through the group, last minute speculation whether he’d really taste it.

Refik took a deep breath and a sip.

Charlotte’s mouth watered and not in a good way. The smell alone put her off and killed all curiosity.

Refik showed no reaction as he swallowed and handed the cup to Talat.

Talat raised the cup high with dramatic flair and then took the taste he promised. He wasn’t quite the actor Refik was. He grimaced and began coughing. Derek offered the rest of his bottle of water and Talat accepted, drinking it down.

“Vintage not to your liking?” Atakan called out.

“It’s rather rugged, but fine.” He poured more into the cup and offered Derek his promised taste. “Ignore the bouquet.”

Derek hesitated and then accepted. He stared at the pale red liquid, looking a lot less enthused than when he volunteered.

“Go on then,” Ben told him.

Ben turned to the group and led them into a cheer of, “Drink, drink, drink.”

Derek managed the obligatory mouthful. Instead of swallowing, he pushed through the cheerleaders, past Charlotte and Atakan, out the door and spit.

Now it was Ben’s turn. In a show of bravado, he tossed what was left into his mouth. Ashen faced, he swallowed and gave the cup to Talat.

Once more, Talat filled the cup partway and handed it to Nassor. Nassor drank. He held it in his mouth. His lips puckered and then disappeared, still he didn’t swallow. He glanced toward the door and back at Talat, apparently too proud to run and spit. He forced the gulp down, wiped his hand over his mouth and muttered a comment.

Atakan, who’d been enjoying the torment of the others, leaning on a support post with his arms folded, straightened.

“What did he say?” he asked Charlotte.

“I don’t know. I didn’t catch it. Why?”

Atakan didn’t answer. “Refik,” he motioned him over.

“Yes.”

They stepped outside. Nosy, Charlotte followed.

“What did he say?” Atakan asked Refik.

“Something I didn’t understand, probably Arabic for
shit
.”

“I’d swear it was Kurmanji.”

“You think?” Refik’s gaze flickered to Nassor. “Weird language for him to know.”

“What’s Kurmanji?” Charlotte asked, intrigued.

“I wish Iskender was here and had heard him. Like me, he spent his military time in the southeastern provinces too,” Atakan said. “But he has a better ear for languages.”

Talat called to him and Refik returned to the front.

“What’s Kurmanji,” Charlotte asked again.

“Outside.” Atakan led her away from the tent. “It is a Kurdish dialect spoken in that region.”

“Long way from Egypt.”

Chapter Thirty-Three

“Did you get them?” Atakan asked as Iskender joined him and Charlotte.

Iskender tossed the camp’s truck keys to Atakan. “Yes. I put them in the bed.”

The Suraya arrived with the rest of the dive teams. Atakan shielded his eyes and looked to the sun, low in the sky. “Good,” he said and checked his watch. “The heat of the day is ended. Sunbathers go with it.”

“The beach is yours,” Iskender said, smiling.

Atakan turned to Charlotte. “Go with Iskender.”

“Where?”

He put a finger to her lips. “Just go with him.”

Atakan left in the truck.

“Was there wine in the amphoras?” Iskender asked.

“In one.” Charlotte watched the truck as Atakan drove the opposite direction of Ada’s.

“Anyone taste it, like they said?”

“Yes, and from the reactions, aging on the seafloor didn’t contribute to the flavor in a good way. I thought we were leaving.”

“In a few minutes, come,” Iskender said, “let’s have a coffee first.”

“What are you two up to?”

“Nothing bad.”

“You’re avoiding a direct answer.”

Iskender held the door to the dining room open for her. “True.”

  #

They walked along the sandy beach for five minutes. In the distance, was another resort, smaller than the one close to Ada’s and not as popular. Tourists flocked to the larger one with the casino.

“This is as far as I go.” Iskender stopped. He gestured to a circle of beach umbrellas in bright pink, blue, and yellow. “Your surprise awaits.” He left and Charlotte walked toward the umbrellas.

Atakan stepped from the circle and came to her.

“What is this?” she asked.

He led her inside the canvas fortress. A blanket was spread on the sand. An ice-filled plastic bucket like the ones the children at Ada’s played with sat on top chilling a bottle of champagne. Next to the bucket was a bottle of suntan oil and a plate of figs and dates.

“Look at this,” Charlotte said, “you’re turning into a seriously romantic devil.”

“Today, I prefer sexy.”

“That you are.” She lifted the champagne from the bucket. “Shall we?”

“Not yet.” He set the bottle back into the ice. “Have you ever gone naked bathing?”

She thought for a minute, trying to decipher what American idiom he was attempting to use. “You mean
skinny dipping
?”

“Yes, if that is without the dreariness of clothing,” he said and began unbuttoning her blouse. Finished, he tossed it to the side and then unhooked her bra. It followed the blouse. He unzipped her shorts and tugged them and her panties down.

He bent and helped her step from the bunched shorts and panties. Then, he stood and slid out of his Speedos. Tanned to a deep brown, a band of pale olive skin striped his hips.

“Come,” he said, taking her by the hand.

They ran into the waves of the incoming tide until they were chest high in the water.

Atakan placed her hands on his shoulders. “You cannot touch me in any other way.”

“What if I want to?”

“You touched me earlier with your chocolate finger torment. Now, it is my turn.”

Waves of warm water washed over them in rapid succession. She staggered as one caught her off balance. Atakan’s hold on her waist kept her from losing her footing.