Byzantine Gold Read Online Free PDF

to obtain. The valley below showed signs of spring but not the barren mountain flanks where they camped. Patches of deep snow from the peaks to their location still covered the ground.
    The numerous caves that dotted the slopes were large enough to accommodate many guerillas and fires could be built inside. Darav refused to use them and insisted on the tents. He and his group of fighters had holed up in caves two years earlier. Turkish jets struck in the night, bombing their hideout. The cave where he slept collapsed, burying him alive for hours.  Terrified, he wet himself and cried like a child as he lay under the rubble. After they dug him out, he vowed to never sleep or operate out of a cave again.
    “What am I looking at exactly? I see it’s some kind of survey photo of a shipwreck, but how does this concern me?” Omar asked.
    “Read the caption below.”
    “’The Byzantine shipwreck found off Cyprus is believed to contain a rich cargo of gold artifacts.’ So?”
    “So?” Darav repeated, impatient with Omar’s inability to make the connection. “Does your stomach not growl every night when you go to bed? We survive on lentil soup and the meager vegetables local villagers can spare. Sad, half-rotted beans or cucumbers, or an eggplant on occasion is not enough for our camp.
    “My boots are torn. Only tape keeps them on my feet. Ammunition is low and the commander at Zap denies my pleas for more, complaining their supplies are too low to help us.”
    “Darav, you tell me what I already know. Explain what I don’t understand. What has this wreck to do with our troubles?”
    “It is the answer to them.” Darav pulled the plastic chair close to his friend. He rested his arms on the table and leaned forward, smiling. “We steal the relics and sell them on the black market. Our people keep the money. We don’t need to rely on supplies from Zap or Hakurk or anyone else.”
    “They will demand we share.”
    “Not if we don’t tell them. We conduct the operation in secret. A small company of us attack the site after a sufficient amount of the artifacts have been excavated.”
    Omar looked unconvinced. Not surprising to Darav. Omar lacked vision and spontaneity. He was an excellent fighter, good with bombs. He’d served with the PKK longer than Darav, but his poverty of imagination kept him from reaching a higher station. He resented Darav’s natural leadership abilities and rapid rise to become the commander of their group.
    “How do you plan to accomplish this attack?” Omar asked. “I doubt the team working the site is without some manner of security. The Ministry of Culture will have a representative there. One call from him and the Turkish military stationed in Northern Cyprus responds. If by some miracle we survive a shoot out with them, afterward we must have a safe escape route. It’s not the same as our incursions into Turkey. We clash with them there knowing we can retreat to our camp here.”
    “I’ve already sketched out a possible plan. I’ll prearrange for a private boat provided by the buyer for our goods to be in the area. We hide a small boat in a cove or some similar place close to the site. We use it to transport our payload to the buyer’s boat. The Turkish Navy cannot search every pleasure craft in the area.”
    “I think this is a mad scheme.”
    “Mad yes; but highly profitable if we succeed.”
    More than profit motivated Darav. If his plan worked, they’d be fat with cash. The funds would buy rockets, plastic explosives, new Kalashnikov rifles and an endless supply of ammunition. Full bellies, good coats, new boots, radios, and satellite phones would boost the sagging morale of his fighters.
    With better weapons, he’d orchestrate an intense reign of terror across Turkey. He’d target government facilities, the military and police, and their families, not just in the southeastern provinces, but all over the country. Then he’d strike the Ankara government where it hurt the