Golden Chariot Page 29

The last time she repeated her mother’s words, she told her two best friends in junior high. They called her mother strange and weird. Charlotte didn’t understand why they didn’t understand. It made perfect sense. Tears can’t change the events that triggered them. Therefore, they were a waste. After that day, she dropped those girls as friends. She never trusted anyone with the information again, until Atakan.

  His silence bothered her. If he had something to say, she wanted to hear it. “What?”

  “Nothing. I don’t know where to begin with that philosophy,” he said and squatted in front of her. “You’re hurt. Let me see.” He lifted the corner of the blanket.

  She stared at the floor as he examined what Tischenko had done. “He carved his initials on me,” she said low.

  Atakan went into the adjoining bathroom. Charlotte watched him while his back was to her. He ran the water in the sink while he searched drawers and found adhesive tape and wash cloths. He passed his hand under the tap, testing the water’s warmth. Then, he wet and soaped one cloth and only wet the other.

  “I need you to sit on the edge of the bed,” he said, coming out of the bathroom. “I have to clean this.”

  She did as he asked.

  “I wasn’t playing detective when he took me.”

  “I know.”

  He wiped the blood off with the soaped cloth and the lather away with the damp one. “We came in a well equipped van. There’ll be a first aid kit available. I’ll be able to do a better job and disinfect this.” He set the cloths aside and tore the tape into thin strips. Gently, he pinched the cuts almost closed and used the strips as butterfly bandages over the wounds.

  “Once we’re in Istanbul we’ll get you to a hospital. You’ll need stitches and a tetanus shot.” He tilted his head to make eye contact. “Charlotte...did he rape you? The hospital will want to know.”

  “No,” she said, looking at him now.

  “You can tell me. There’s no shame for you. I know what an animal Tischenko is. If he touched you, did things to you, the doctors must be told.”

  “No.”

  “Charlotte?”

  “I said, no.”

  She’d never tell Atakan about the blowjob, not him, not Nick, not anybody. People always treat a woman different when a personal attack of that nature happens. She’d known a few women who’d been victims of sexual assault. People walked on eggshells around them. She couldn’t bear to be seen as poor Charlotte.

  When Atakan started questioning her, she’d already decided to compartmentalize the incident. The ugliest minutes of her life, but they were only minutes out of a long life, that’s all. She’d put the nightmare in a box and stick it far from her mind and forget. When the scars the initials left reminded her, she’d shove the memory back in the box.

  Atakan tugged the blanket closed.

  “Do you think the hospital will want to keep me?”

  “Overnight, yes, for observation.”

  “I won’t stay.”

  “Charlotte...”

  “I won’t stay. They can’t make me.”

  Atakan sighed hard. “Why must you always be so obstinate?”

  “I hate hospitals. They smell.”

  “Where do you plan to go?”

  “I’ll call a taxi and stay in a hotel.”

  “Really? How do you intend to pay for this? Your credit cards, cash, and passport are in Bozburun.”

  “I’ll figure out something,” she said.

  “You’ll stay with me.”

  She wasn’t angling for an invitation, but she would like to stay with him, under the right circumstances. She hesitated.

  “I see you’re not interested. Since you don’t find the offer pleasing, let me take you to a hotel. I will pay.”

  “I didn’t say I wasn’t interested.”

  “Your silence indicates differently.”

  “I wasn’t thinking that at all.”

  “Then, you are amenable?”

  “Do you live alone?”

  “You mean do I live with Ermine,” Atakan said, smiling. “I live alone. I told you, Ermine and I are not, how you say, a couple.”

  “In that case, your offer pleases me. I’ll stay.”

  “When we get home, you can wear my things. Tomorrow, I’ll have Refik send some of your clothes.”

  Voices came from the hidden stairs. Iskender and the others entered the room.

  “The stairs lead to a tunnel. We followed it to the end, but he escaped. The tunnel runs under the compound wall and exits into the woods,” Iskender reported.

  “I have ordered helicopters from Sevastopol to search the area,” Demcuk said.

  “Good. Speaking for the Ministry, we’d appreciate it if you’d keep us informed.”

  “Of course.”

  Demcuk eyed the bloody cloths on the floor and then Charlotte. “How is the woman?”

  “She’ll be fine, but I’d like to get her to Istanbul as soon as possible.”

  “Take our van. Captain Mazur and I will stay here with our other officers. We’ll find Tischenko. You can have him after we’re done.”

  Chapter Seventy-Five

  Istanbul

  A full day and night of rest was all Charlotte tolerated before she started to go bug-nuts.

  She sponged the layer of dust from the countertop in Atakan’s tiny kitchen. The tile, the color of Dijon mustard didn’t look any better clean. Any shine it once had wore off ages ago. There wasn’t much of the dull countertop, only postage stamp size areas on either side of the single basin sink. An old toaster and new juicer used up most of the space on the pie-shaped section between the sink and stove. What remained was a meter length area on the sink’s opposite side. A refrigerator for Hobbits and a stacked washer and dryer ate up the remainder of floor space.

  Atakan was still gone. In his absence, Charlotte wandered around the apartment. She hadn’t seen much since he brought her to his home. After the hospital discharged her, he’d insisted she take the Valium the doctor prescribed and sleep. She’d slept for hours, but once she awoke, she wanted out of bed. Atakan resisted. They squabbled until he finally relented and let her watch television with him on the sofa.

  As soon as he was out the door that morning, she jumped out of bed. She showered first, a tricky task since she had to keep the stitches dry. She used Atakan’s plastic wrap from the kitchen, taping a layered square over them first. She wound the last length around her abdomen like a mummy and finished the roll. The tedious business was worth it to feel fresh and clean and wash her hair.

  Atakan had retrieved her undergarments from Tischenko’s and washed them. The shorts and top she’d worn were ripped too badly to wear. Fine with her. She didn’t want to see or touch them again. Her camp clothes hadn’t arrived. She dressed in her panties and his jeans and the tee shirt he’d laid out on the foot of the bed. She left the bra off.

  Now, she wanted to see his place. The Spartan bedroom offered no clues to his personal life. The room had a queen bed with a leather padded headboard and a highboy with a saucer of loose change on top. Nothing useful to satisfy her curiosity. In many ways, he was a mystery to her. What books did he read? What music other than what was on his iPod did he listen to? Did he have pictures of his family displayed anywhere? She hadn’t seen any in the living room.

  She explored the dining room first. He had an antique round rosewood table that sat four. The matching glass front hutch was filled with a variety of collectibles.

  Charlotte opened it, drawn to the excellent collection. Blue and white hand painted ceramics, ornamental copper plates, urn pots, and a tea set lined the shelves. She was familiar with the Phoenix interwoven with tulips pattern on a ceramic pitcher. It was in the distinctive Middle Eastern style, with a narrow, elongated spout and curved handle. If an authentic Iznik, the piece would be signed. She turned it over. The artist’s name was painted on the bottom.

  The metal plates were lovely with their intricate Ottoman swirls of repeating flowers and
circles. Turkey was famous for this type of object d’art. The quality plates were expensive.

  She fell in love with the tea service. The beaded crystal set was the prettiest collectible, in her opinion. Blown bubbles of glass dripped down the tall pot and gold rimmed glasses were cradled inside filigree holders.

  None of the pieces looked like anything Atakan would buy. The copper plates maybe, but nothing else. They had to be family heirlooms. She’d ask him when he came home.

  When was he coming home? He’d been gone a long time.

  He had to go into the office that morning. She’d plumped the pillows and sat up, watching him dress. He’d come out of the bathroom with a towel tied around his hips and his damp hair slicked back. She’d like it if he stayed that way all day. Work trumped wishful thinking. He pulled underwear and socks from his dresser and laid them on the bed. At the closet, he took a moment then selected a charcoal grey suit and lighter grey shirt. A battery operated tie rack attached to the rod spun a half turn. He picked out a burnt orange Ferragamo tie with a tiger cub and butterfly print in pale grey.

  Charlotte recognized the tie by the color and pattern. It was one of Ferragamo’s more popular designs. Her mother gave Nick the same tie for Christmas. He didn’t tell their mother, but he told Charlotte he hated the tie. He liked the tiger cubs, hated the butterflies.

  Atakan wasn’t shy about dropping the towel and dressing with an audience. Nor was she bashful about getting an eyeful of the few places she hadn’t seen at camp.

  Finished, he grabbed the towel off the floor and went into the bathroom using the mirror there to knot his tie. When he stepped into the bedroom again, he looked like a well tanned banker rather than the casual, semi-dressed diver she was accustomed to.

  “Atakan, the investigator,” he said, coming to her side of the bed. “What do you think?”

  “I think you dressed too fast. Do it again, only slower. Start where you only wear a towel.”

  He pressed the tip of his finger to her lips. “Such bold talk can get you into trouble.”

  She wanted to say, “How about you play the part of trouble and I let you get into me?” That was a bit too bold, even for her. However, if the evening went as she hoped, cheap dirty talk might be on the menu.

  “You’re to relax and rest at least one more day. I’ll be home as soon as possible.”

  “Later, Trouble.”

  She checked her watch. She was ravenous. Once he was assigned to the wreck site, Atakan hadn’t bothered to stock food. He was supposed to stop at the grocery on his way home.

  Bright sunlight streamed into the dining room through French doors. They opened onto an oval patio with two chairs and a low table in between. He lived in the Uskuder district on the Asian side of Istanbul. She was unfamiliar with the area and stepped onto the patio wanting to look the neighborhood over.

  The vestibule’s peeling paint, the walk-up four flights, and the sad, little kitchen were forgotten with one look.

  From his patio, he had an unobstructed view of the Marmara Sea where it meets the Bosphorus. She leaned on the wrought iron patio railing and stretched forward. In the distance, ferries crossing between the Asian and European sides of the city dotted the water. To the right was the ancient Maiden’s Tower, with her scalloped dome, built on stone pile at water’s edge.

  Closing the doors, she started her exploration of the bookshelves in the living room. A thick leather bound book stood out from the newer ones in glossy dust jackets. Charlotte slid it from the shelf. As she suspected, she’d found his family album.

  She flipped through the first few pages with a cursory glance then stopped at a photo of a young couple with two small children. A uniformed man stood at parade rest, his feet a stride apart with his hands clasped behind his back. In his late thirties, about Atakan’s age, the resemblance to Atakan was striking. He had the same wide forehead, strong cheekbones, and square jaw line. He was an officer, judging from the insignias on his epaulets. Each maroon bar had three gold stars with a wreath, followed by the star and crescent of Turkey’s flag. Clean shaven, his hair was shorter than Atakan’s and worn in a brush style military cut but the same deep black. Although, he didn’t smile, he didn’t appear stern either.

  In front of him, his wife sat posed with a shy smile. Her dress was a mint green frothy silk outfit with lace from the bodice to her throat. Sheer sleeves to her wrist covered her arms and a pale green scarf covered her hair. How feminine and beautiful she was. She hugged a female toddler who snuggled against the woman’s leg.

  But the dark-haired little boy captured most of Charlotte’s attention. He stood next to his mother, at parade rest mimicking his father’s straight expression. His mother dressed him in black cuffed pants with knife sharp creases and a white shirt. A tie the exact shade of blue as his father’s uniform was tucked into a tapestry print vest.

  Charlotte turned at the sound of the key in the door.

  “What are you doing up? Why aren’t you resting, like I told you?” Atakan pushed the door shut with his hip.

  “I rested enough. I feel fine.” Charlotte closed the album and set it on top of the bookshelf.

  “You don’t listen to the doctors. You don’t listen to me. Who do you listen to?”

  “No one comes to mind. I’ll have to think on it.” She reached for one of the grocery bags in his arms. “Let me help.”

  “No, they’re too heavy,” he said, walking past her to the kitchen. He dropped the bags onto the counter.

  “What took so long?” Charlotte began unloading a bag in search of snack food.

  Atakan reached into the other bag and pulled out a Bounty Bar and gave it to her. “Work of course,” he said, and went into the dining room.

  He shrugged out of his suit coat. He hung it over a chair, loosened his tie, and draped it over the chair too. He unbuttoned the top two buttons on his shirt and rolled his cuffs a single turn as he came back into the kitchen.

  “The Director ordered one of his Crusade length debriefings. He expressed his pleasure with our successful rescue. Could the Director end the meeting there? No. He wished to point out a problem, which, boiled down to ‘Atakan is a goat brain who got his phone compromised. Therefore, you will all lock your phones up when they are not on your person.’”

  “Goat brain isn’t the worst thing to be called.”

  “Depends on if you’re the goat.”

  Atakan unloaded one bag, opened a beer and took a swig.

  Charlotte touched the bottle. “It’s warm.”

  “I don’t care.”

  He set a bottle of red wine on the counter and handed Charlotte a corkscrew from a drawer.

  “Were you looking at my family pictures?”

  “Yes. I hadn’t gotten far though. I only saw one of you when you were about five. Will you show me the rest?”

  “Family photos are only interesting to those in the pictures.”

  “I’m interested,” she said.

  “Why? You don’t know my parents or my sister.”

  “I know you. I want to see what you looked like growing up and when you were a young man, not the old coot you are now.”

  “Coot? Is that not a louse?” Atakan asked; his head in the refrigerator as he stuck several more bottles of beer inside.

  “That’s a cootie. Coot is a crotchety old man.”

  “Pardon.” He closed the refrigerator door and faked an offended look.

  “If it’s any consolation, I think you look pretty hot...for your age.” She threw the wrapper from the Bounty she’d wolfed down in the trash under his sink.

  “I accept your strange compliment. Wine glasses are in the top cupboard.” He leaned against the counter edge and drank another swallow of beer.

  “I know,” she said and removed a balloon glass. She poured herself a generous amount of wine.

  “You look good in my tee shirt.”

  As planned, going braless got noticed.

  “So, you gonna show me your p
ictures?” She gave him a firm hip bump.

  “For a price.”

  “I don’t have much to negotiate with. What would you accept?”

  “Make me an offer.”

  “I have nothing of value other than my humble body.”

  “How can I refuse such a generous gift?”

  He set the beer down and bent to kiss her.

  She pressed her finger to his lips. “I have a question.”

  “Now?”

  “Yes.”

  “Your timing is atrocious, but ask away.”

  “Why’d you laugh when the man at the village electronics store suggested making a dirty DVD of me for you? Was I that unsexy to you then?”

  “I laughed because the idea was so far from the reality of what I’d have liked when it came to you. I’m a doer not a watcher. If I was going to have you, it would be the flesh and blood you, not a two dimensional image.”

  “We’re both in luck. Here I am. In the flesh.”

  He bent to kiss her again. His lips barely brushed hers when the pounding on the door made them jump and jerk apart.

  Chapter Seventy-Six

  Charlotte went to the door with Atakan. Several excited voices carried from outside.

  “My family,” Charlotte sighed. “This will be a total boondoggle. I told you not to call them.”

  “I didn’t.”

  Someone pounded again. Atakan opened the door and stepped aside as Pat, Charlotte’s mother, Frank, her stepfather, Pete, her father, and his wife, Roni, and Nick all filed into the small living room.

  “Thank God, you’re safe.” Her mother threw her arms around Charlotte’s neck as Atakan shut the door behind the group.

  “I’m fine, mom.” She unhooked her mother’s arms.

  “You had us all worried sick,” her father said, hugging her.

  “Really dad, I’m okay.” Charlotte kissed him on the cheek and slipped her hand in Atakan’s. “Let me introduce you to my family.”

  “You know Nick, of course.”

  She turned, smiling at him as Nick drew back.

  “You son-of-a-bitch. You used my sister as bait.”

  Atakan moved to dodge the punch. Charlotte saw Nick’s intention and inserted herself between the two men. Atakan instantly tried to yank her out of the way and block the punch.