Byzantine Gold (10 page)

“Short boat trip to Cyprus,” Charlotte said, sighing.

“The Director and I agree he’s not headed here. If that was his intent, he’d be in the area already. Why he’d stop in Kusadasi is a mystery.”

“You can’t eliminate a trip to Cyprus either.”

“No. Iskender is coming, in case we’re wrong.”

“What are your thoughts on his next move since he keeps doing the unpredictable?”

“He’ll wait for me to return to Istanbul.”

Charlotte went into the bathroom and ran the water. She returned a moment later, drying her face with a towel and sat on the edge of the bed. Her bangs and the hair around her cheeks were damp from their love-making and where she’d splashed water on her face. She set the towel aside and stared straight ahead. She looked drained and defeated. He wondered if he was wrong to mention the Kusadasi incident.

“Charlotte, worrying won’t change anything.”

“I know, but I can’t help it. Part of me hates the unknown, the idea of him waiting out there, somewhere for you, and wants this over. The other part of me fears that, because it can only end with one of you dead.”

He pulled her down and held her against his chest.

“This will end soon enough and with his death,” he said with more confidence than he felt. He spared her his doubts. He stood a fair chance of succeeding. But in truth, the odds favored Tischenko. Atakan could only react, operate from a defensive position. More often than not, it was the losing position.

Chapter Seventeen

Charlotte commandeered two of the AGA masks from Refik. She didn’t mention she wanted them to keep better track of Nassor. He took her advice well the day before and paid more attention as they prepared for their dive. If he was going to screw up, she worried it would be underwater, the worst possible place to go airheaded on her. At least with the masks, she could communicate with him. If Nassor wandered away again, she’d rat him out to Refik. She made sure Nassor understood the consequences of a repeat incident.

Saska joined Charlotte on the bow of the Suraya while she and Nassor waited their turn to dive.

“You and Atakan disappeared fast after dinner last night. I wanted to invite you both for a drink at the local resort.”

“Maybe tonight. Atakan has a Ministry associate arriving today and the four of us can go,” Charlotte suggested.

Saska waved her index finger back and forth. “You conveniently haven’t said where you vanished to. I’m curious.”

“Why?”

“I guessed the two of you wanted to be alone. Camp is like Grand Central and he’s such a straight-arrow, I can’t picture him agreeing to a public tryst.”

Charlotte considered what, if anything, to tell her. Their business was no one else’s, especially Saska’s. Then again, if she knew Charlotte and Atakan retained a special place for privacy, she’d realize the relationship was serious. But would she print that information in a story?

“We booked a bungalow for the summer. However, our personal relationship isn’t for public consumption and not to be included in your article. I’m certain if it was, Atakan and the Ministry would disapprove. As you know, the Ministry must agree to your presence on any future excavation here or in Turkey.”

“Understood.”

“Is this rental at Ada’s?” asked Nassor, who listened to the conversation.

“Yes. Why?”

“Just wondered.”

“That reminds me, why didn’t you say hi to us yesterday? We saw you drinking at one of the tables.”

“I didn’t see you.”

“Really? Huh,” was all Charlotte said. According to Atakan, Nassor definitely saw them. Nassor had told Refik he wanted to go for a walk. He must think he’ll get into trouble for going to Ada’s instead and is lying to avoid a problem. “You know it’s all right to go places on your off time.”

“I’m glad. On my last site, we were not permitted the opportunity.”

“What a drag,” Charlotte said.

The previous team surfaced and they moved to the dive platform.

“Ready, Major Tom?” Nassor asked and saluted her.

Nassor was teasing her. Who knew he had a sense of humor?

“Ready yes, but I don’t want to be Tom.”

“Is he not the man you sang about?”

“Yes, but the dude died in space.” ‘
Your circuit’s dead, something’s wrong.’
The lyric popped into her head.

Charlotte stepped several feet away from Nassor. “Testing, testing, one, two, three, do you copy Nassor?” she asked, using the VOX circuit.

He nodded.

She blew out a breathy,
phew
. “Let’s go,” she said and jumped off the platform.

Rachel, Talat, Derek, and another Brit, Ben, worked with hand-held, underwater dredges to clear more sand from the wreck’s bow. Charlotte and Nassor would photograph the newly uncovered sections of hull.

With the removal of silt from their gridded area, Charlotte was excited to point out and discuss interesting construction features. The majority of the keel and starboard planking survived, although not intact. They lay, she guessed in the same position as when the ship sank. Smaller sections of wood, too short to serve as strakes were piled behind the bow spur.

“I bet these are part of the raised deck for the archers and spearmen.” She knelt on the seafloor for close-up views.

Nassor lit the area. “Doesn’t seem like much space for the men to make an effective attack,” he said, adjusting the lamp for the best angle without Charlotte instructing him.

“There’s more. When we excavate the main mast area you’ll see what’s left of the central tower or wooden castle. We’ll find remnants of the bolt-firing catapults and large flame throwers.”

“What do you think that is?” He turned the light on a thick chunk of wood.

“Hard to say, but it may be a syphonopho-rami, a light flame-thrower. Mean weapons for hurtling Greek fire.”

“I like the concept,” Nassor said and swung the light back to Charlotte’s location.

She waved for him to follow her to where a group of amphoras lay scattered, walking carefully among the planks. She snapped more photos then knelt again and zoomed in on a group of amphoras with Arabic writing inscribed on the bodies.

“For this type of vessel, these are a surprise. MIAR approximated the date of this ship as tenth century. Arab pirates menaced the region with raids during the period. I wonder if the Dromon’s crew took them from an Arab ship they encountered.”

She examined the pitch seal on the larger amphora and the seals on a couple more nearby. “The seals are intact. Good.”

“When do we get to excavate the gold cargo?”

“Not for awhile. We have to finish the photography and tagging of the artifacts first.”

She heard him grunt and the light moved out of position. She glanced up and found Nassor focused on the gold relics he’d wandered off to the day before.

“Nassor, pay attention.”

“Sorry.” He moved the light back to where she worked.

She didn’t understand his lack of enthusiasm for the contents of the amphoras. His fascination with the rich artifacts was understandable...to a degree. Ornate pieces of gold or the beautifully crafted embellished relics always drew a lot of attention. However, he seemed overly enthralled. Charlotte thought as an Egyptian archaeologist, Nassor dealt with many similar artifacts.

“Nassor, what sites have you worked in the past?”

“The harbor of Alexandria and an ancient fishing boat in the Red Sea.”

Explains a lot, she thought. He probably dealt with ancient statuary and building remains in Alexandria and limited artifacts off the fishing boat.

His generalized term for the fishing boat struck her as funny, unprofessional for a scientist of this nature. Archaeologists, paleontologists, geologists, most when describing a site are specific in their terminology as to period or era. Bronze Age, Byzantine Era, Mesozoic Era, Precambrian, timelines are important to them. Unlike Nassor’s simple reference as “ancient.”

Before she questioned him further, he tapped her on the shoulder and then tapped his watch. Time to surface.

Anxious to return to camp, the questions slipped her mind. Iskender was due any time. He might have updated information on Tischenko.

    Chapter Eighteen

“The bottom drawers are yours,” Atakan told Iskender.

“Do we have a secure storage container?” Iskender asked, as he unpacked the Akdal Ghost. The same model automatic issued to Atakan.

Atakan reached under his bunk and slid out a heavy-gauge black steel microvault twice the size of a laptop and set the case on the bed. A finger pad was attached to the exterior of the lid with four rows and circular sensor plates.

Atakan laid his hand on the rows, the tips of his fingers on the plates. The locking bar clicked.

“Biometric readers...nice,” Iskender said.

“Supposed to be impossible to pry with hand tools and a built-in computer blocks access after any invalid scan entries.

Atakan opened it. Inside the top was lined with soft egg-carton-style foam. On the bottom were cutouts for the autos and extra magazines.

“Why a key lock too?” Iskender pointed to the small key lock on the outside.

“Locking override.” Atakan took a ring with two keys from his pocket and removed one. “Here.” He handed it to Iskender. “Let me close this and we’ll program your fingerprints into the computer.” The case locked automatically when he shut the lid.

“How fast can we get into this thing, if a situation arises?”

“We have quick access. I tested it at the office.”

Atakan finished entering the biometric information and they stored their weapons and extra magazines. He replaced the microvault under his bed.

“The Director contacted our military base here and they’ve agreed to allow us use of their practice range. We’ll go there shortly. The cook is lending us her truck.”

“Good idea. Been awhile since I shot. Actually, the last time was with you, in Sevastopol.”

“Same for me. Want to take a coffee before we go?” Atakan asked.

“Sounds good.”

Iskender studied the layout of the camp while they walked to the dining area. “The fence doesn’t offer much of a deterrent.”

“I know, but it’s the best we could do with the short time we had to put it up. It’s meant mainly to keep the tourists away.”

Two of the Brits nodded and said “Hi,” as they passed. 

“Is no one here concerned about seeing you armed?”

“Refik, Talat, and of course Charlotte, know why. The other team members are new to Turkish Ministry controlled sites. I don’t think they know this isn’t standard for our representatives,” Atakan said.

Atakan and Iskender sat at a table in the corner away from the others eating and drinking, killing time before the afternoon dives.

“Headquarters notified me earlier today a cash machine camera captured the face of the man our agent in Kusadasi chased. He confirmed it was Tischenko.”

“What do you think Tischenko was doing in Kusadasi?”

The same question preyed on Atakan’s mind. Tischenko took a big risk going there. Every law enforcement agency in the country had a bulletin with his face on it. What did he need or have to do there he couldn’t do or get almost anywhere else?

“I don’t know,” Atakan replied. “I checked for links. I couldn’t find any family ties or known associates.”

“You checked boat leases in the area I assume.”

He nodded. “All the local rentals were to tourists. I did a search on those names too, in case they might have a past connection to him.”

“I understand the Director discussed the latest theory with you.”

Atakan nodded again. Director Firat had called him that morning. He wanted an outside opinion and consulted with a friend assigned the Intelligence Unit in the Special Police Forces. The friend advised against assuming Tischenko’s next attempt would be in Istanbul. “He threw caution to the wind and chanced apprehension in Kusadasi. As the Americans say, he’s gone off script. It’s a mistake to think he won’t dare an attempt in Cyprus.” 

“Do me a favor,” Atakan said. “Don’t tell Charlotte. She’s already sick with worry. I told her the latest theory involving Istanbul. That was before the Director’s call. I don’t want her to know we’ve upgraded the threat level at this location.”

“Understood.”

“It’s safer for him to anchor off this end of the island and avoid crossing the Green Line.”

“If I were him, I’d use a small vessel that didn’t attract attention.”

“That describes dozens of boats, on any given day, in every harbor nearby. Without a lead on the boat, we’ve got nothing workable.”

They sat quietly drinking their coffee and mulling over the difficult situation.

“Saska’s here,” Atakan said, changing the subject.

A corner of Iskender’s mouth lifted in a wry grin. “Yes, I know. I saw her name on the approval sheet for this site. Does Charlotte know of your history with her?”

“Yes. It’s not our practice to discuss previous relationships but with Saska coming here, I had to tell her.”

“She’s fine with it?”

“She’s not thrilled, but she’s not one to act childish. Besides, I’ve made an outside arrangement that pleases her.”

#

Saska rode the same shuttle as Charlotte back to camp.

“Mind if I ask a few questions?” she asked, sitting next to Charlotte on the boat’s wooden bench.

“Shoot.”

“Is this the only type of archaeology you do?”

“You mean do I work land sites?” Saska nodded. “No, just wrecks,” Charlotte said, retrieving a bottle of water from her backpack. She offered a drink to Saska, who declined.

“Why?”

“My doctorate is in
nautical
archaeology. I didn’t want to wind up on a dig in some horrible jungle or a desert wasteland in the blistering sun.”

Saska wrote several lines in a spiral notebook. 

Charlotte swallowed a large gulp of water anxious to retract the last. It was the truth, but she should’ve chosen her words better. The way she phrased the work of other archaeologists sounded pompous and unprofessional. She had to remember to give neutral answers or speak in generalities to the journalist. She tried to read what Saska had written and couldn’t. The notes were in some kind of personal shorthand.

Charlotte attempted to explain. “Wherever the work is, all archaeology is important. I have the greatest respect for the scientists who work those sites. They often endure harsh conditions.

“I love the sea. I love the world beneath the surface. There’s beautiful and colorful fish. Some are buttery yellow or neon blue or green. Others are streaked with bright orange.” She flicked her fingers out, one hand then the other, mimicking mini explosions and the way they appeared to her. “They’re like solar flares when they flash past.”

Charlotte paused to find the words to describe what she feels the first time she sees the physical ship. “Every ship has a tale. I want to learn the story each has to tell.”

“I understand your fascination.” Saska wrote faster. “Do all the divers feel the same about the wrecks?”

“I don’t know, probably not. I can’t speak for them. Most are new to me. You’d have to ask them individually.”

“How about your partner? Haven’t you talked together?”

“Not really. We’ve only gone on three dives so far. He’s a good person for you to interview about the work. I do know he’s been on a project in the harbor of Alexandria. That would be an interesting topic for your article. Ask him how the two projects compare.”