Byzantine Gold Read Online Free PDF Page B

most, financially. He’d attack historical sites and resorts. A bomb in Topkapi Palace or Ephesus would kill or injure hundreds and terrify tourists. Once Ankara was forced to bend to their demands, he’d be a hero to his people, to the cause.  
    “How do we know when to make this raid?” The wind kicked up again. Omar stuck his hands under his armpits for warmth.
    “I only need to get myself on the team to discover the information necessary.”
    “Simple as that, eh?” Omar mocked with a skeptical smirk.
    “The Maritime Institute of Archaeology and Research is responsible for the project. Their newsletter with personnel assigned is posted on the Internet. Tomorrow I’ll go to a cyber cafe in Mosul, check their backgrounds, choose a suitable member and replace him.”
    “Watch out. Mosul is crawling with Iraqi police and suspicious American military. You never know who’s looking over your shoulder while you surf the web. If they don’t like what they see or what they think they’re seeing, you’ll be interrogated or worse.”
    “One Kurd is the same as another to the Americans.”
    “To a regular soldier perhaps. But not if one of them contacts Military Intelligence.”
    “A small risk. The Iraqi police are the worry, depending on who stops you. There’s a friendly cyber café upstairs from a coffee house on the eastern edge of the city.”
    “Irbil is safer.”
    “Too far.” Darav had another reason for Mosul over Irbil. He’d secretly siphoned off some of their precious funds for personal use. The owner of the café also kept cheap whores from Uzbekistan and Azerbaijan. Darav preferred the Azerbaijani girls. They had nicer teeth, not so crooked or yellow. 
    Omar shrugged. “Your choice. This MIAR team you’re researching, aren’t they all divers?”
    “I suppose.”
    “Do you dive?”
    “The excavation doesn’t start for a few weeks, by then, I will,” Darav said. “I need only to apply myself.”
    “I wonder who’ll replace you here.”
    “Why would we need another leader?”
    “This insane adventure is your death warrant.”

Chapter Seven

    Istanbul
    “The authorities are still searching, right?” Charlotte asked.
    “Interpol has a man reviewing the security camera footage from the airports, train stations, and ports. The Paris police pulled the metro footage. They show Tischenko boarding the subway a few blocks from our hotel and exiting at the Etoile stop. Unfortunately, the camera lost sight of him when he disappeared in the large crowd of tourists,” Atakan said.
    “They had to have missed him leaving the country. He didn’t vanish into thin air.” She wanted to hear he’d turned up somewhere. She wanted to hear the authorities had some clue where the killer was.
    “No, I think he hid out in Paris or the suburbs. He probably waited until the Easter holiday when the search for him grew less intense, rented a car, and drove out of the country. It’s what I’d do,” Atakan said.
    “Will Interpol review the digital images from the border crossings of surrounding non Eurozone countries?”
    “I don’t know,” he said with a single shrug of his good shoulder.
    His wound forced him to wear a sling on his other arm, which he hated. The inability to do little things without help, like tying his tie, or driving himself places because he couldn’t steer and shift, made him crazy. Iskender had to pick him up on his way to the office. He refused to go to restaurants, embarrassed that Charlotte or someone else at the table would have to cut his food for him.
    There was the occasional pleasant upside to his infirmity. She timed her morning showers and fast towel-off to coincide with the point in his dressing when he needed help with his tie. A steamy room and her warm, naked body standing close sometimes led to a fun quickie against the sink counter. 
    “They’re taking the incident very seriously, but you’re talking a lot of man hours,” he added.
    Charlotte understood