Golden Chariot Page 5

  She shot him a look of disgust and waved away the question with a swipe of her hand. What kind of nut bag did he think she was?

  “No, that was Homeric spin. I still maintain Homer got more than a war story. He infused the main participants with additional traits, but the basic people involved are true. The players in this war made the story different. That’s why it was passed down for five centuries to his time.”

  “You’re wrong.”

  She hadn’t swayed Atakan even a little. Discouraged and angry, she stared out at the sea. Water always had a calming effect on her. At home, in Chicago, she spent many quiet moments by Lake Michigan.

  A pod of bow riding dolphins cavorted next to a fishing boat en route to anchor farther out. Such joyous animals, she loved the way they burst from the water, like shiny, half-moons of silver, leaping high, and then diving down again. Along with manatees, they were her favorite sea mammals. This was a good spot for dolphin watching and one of the reasons she liked to come there.

  “How is this wreck connected to your theory?” Atakan asked.

  “Bronze Age...the time frame is right.” She turned to him the edge taken off her anger. “If I was Priam, losing a war, I’d make an effort to get my treasure to a safe place. The King of Cyprus wasn’t one of the Greek allies involved in the invasion. This wreck is on the trade route from Troy to Cyprus. Merchant ships came and went during the war. What better way to transport royal valuables than a common merchantman? And---“

  He raised his hand, again. “Stop.”

  only recovered a couple,” he said, “Those reasons don’t justify your focus on this ship.”

  “So you say. And sit back, stop getting in my face.”

  He gave her the space she wanted...barely.

  “Part of the language on the diptych is Luwian. MIAR sent photos to the university’s archaeology department. My professor showed them to us. I admit it’s a stretch of the imagination to tie such weak evidence to the Troy of my theory. But, this was my best shot so far.”

  “I understand the search for truth, the passion for understanding our ancestors. I don’t understand this particular passion. Deep down, you are obsessed with Troy’s hero, Hektor. Hektor is ours...Turkey’s. Why do you care so much about he who is ours to revere?”

  “I told you. It changes our understanding of history. As an archaeologist, are you saying you wouldn’t pursue the possibility Achilles existed because he’s a Greek hero?”

  “I wouldn’t ignore evidence regarding him, because if he lived so did Hektor. However, I wouldn’t go out of my way to prove another’s hero rather than my own. Why do you?”

  She moved the cups and swung around, squaring off with him. “The nature of a man makes him a hero, not his nationality.”

  “Who’s in whose face now?”

  She scooted back a few inches.

  “Do you resent foreign archaeologists working Turkish ruins?”

  “Not at all. I welcome legitimate interest in our past. However, we’ve experienced incidents with archaeologists whose efforts were exploitive and motivated by profit. Since we’re on the subject, let’s say you find proof, then what?”

  “Are you doubting my motivation?” She wasn’t sure where he was going with the question.

  “No. There’s nothing negative implied in my curiosity. Again, what would you do?”

  “There’ve been thousands of wars over thousands of years. None captures the imagination like this one. The Trojan War and the individual stories of the men and women have fascinated the world for two millennia. To prove their existence is comparable to finding Atlantis. I haven’t thought beyond...” Charlotte stumbled for a more thorough answer. “I’m not sure. Just relish the reality of being right I guess.”

  “Your father’s company would enjoy some benefit too. They did open doors for you.”

  “Like what, some good press because they helped sponsor the excavation? Big deal.” She stood. “It’s obvious you resent the fact their money gave me a leg up. I’m as sincere as any of the others, and you’re an impossible butt-head. Don’t talk to me anymore today.”

  She walked a few steps and returned. Atakan hadn’t moved.

  “Another thing, you can’t cherry pick just the heroes from a story,” she said, pointing her finger at him. “You can’t claim Hektor and not that selfish, conceited bastard, Paris.”

  “Does butt-head mean what I think it means?”

  “Figure it out.”

  Chapter Twelve

  More reasons supporting her theory popped into Charlotte’s head as she hiked down the hill. She’d save them for a later debate with Atakan.

  “Uma-hi.”

  “You jumped. Did I scare you?” Uma asked with a pleased lilt to her voice.

  “You startled me.”

  “Here.” Uma handed her the iPod. “Your brother’s in the kitchen.”

  “Nick’s here?”

  “He said he was your brother, although, I’d never guess from appearances. With his light hair and blue eyes, he’s so--”

  “Aryan?”

  “You mock me.”

  “No. It wasn’t a political comment. I meant his physical appearance fits the typical stereotypes most people have of Nordic looks.”

  “True,” Uma replied, studying Charlotte’s face.

  Charlotte knew what she was thinking. Why do you look so different? She’d heard those questions for years. She’d tired of explaining. I look like our mother, and Nick took after our father. It happens.

  Uma didn’t ask those questions. She bluntly inquired, “Were you adopted?”

  Idiot. Charlotte ignored the question and jogged off to the kitchen.

  Her brother and his friend, Jeff, sat facing the screen door with a view of the sea. They passed a pair of binoculars back and forth. Where they found the glasses, she didn’t know. Nick had a talent for finding all sorts of stuff. As kids he constantly came home with odd things he discovered, jewelry lost on the beach, toys buried in playground sandboxes, orphaned squirrels in the woods.

  Nick held the binoculars to his eyes, fixed on a single object. Jeff made a vain attempt to take possession of them. “Stop hogging the glasses.”

  “Nick,” Charlotte said from the side entrance.

  He handed the binoculars to Jeff and met her midway. Solid muscled biceps squeezed her ribcage in a bear hug.

  “Look at you,” he said, releasing her. Nick stepped back. “Nice tan. You’re the color of honey. I’m jealous. I can see I’ll have to visit more often so I can catch up.”

  “Dream on bro, not with your fair skin. If we were trees, you’d be a pale birch, me...a golden cedar. Too bad, so sad.”

  “Hey, Case.”

  Family and close friends called her Casey. Charlotte turned toward Jeff. She’d known him since her teens. He played football with Nick in high school and was her first “serious” crush. She was fourteen. He was seventeen and had a midnight blue van with the solar system air-brushed on the side in neon colors. She thought it was the coolest van, ever. Both her sets of parents quickly informed her that even if she was old enough to date, which she wasn’t, she would not be allowed to see any boy who owned a van, no matter how “cool.”

  After college, Nick and Jeff joined the police department and were now partners on the SWAT team.

  Jeff came over and hugged her in strong arms but without the rib crushing power of Nick.

  “How are you?” she asked, when he let go.

  “I’m good.” He took a step back and gave her the once over. “You’re looking pretty great.”

  “I’m sure I don’t. I’ve been diving and sitting in the wind but I’ll take the compliment.”

  “Speaking of diving, who’s the blonde sea goddess,” Nick asked, pointing. “Introduce us.”

  Charlotte glanced outside. The midday sun backlit Ursula peeling off her wetsuit on the camp’s pier.

  “Forget it. That’s Ursula Schweiger, and neither of you can afford her. She h
as a super rich boyfriend. He’s stopped by a couple of times in a yacht the size of a battleship.”

  “The captain of the SS Viagra doesn’t scare me.”

  “What makes you think he’s old? There are lots of rich, young men too.” Charlotte couldn’t see Ursula with an old lover.

  “A hundred dollars says he’s got twenty years on her,” Jeff chimed in.

  “I’ve never seen him. He sends a tender from the yacht to pick her up. But you shouldn’t assume.”

  “I’m not looking to support her, just distract her for a night or two,” Jeff said with a wink. He walked across the room and put the binoculars on a shelf near the sink. When he returned to the table, he sat on the opposite bench.

  “Come on, Case. We’re fun guys. She’ll have a good time.” Nick nudged her.

  “No way. Ursula and I get along fine. I won’t have you spoiling things. You’ll fill her head with sexy nonsense, and then split, and I’m stuck with the messy aftermath. I know how the two of you are.”

  Nick feigned offense. “That’s not our fault. Chicks see us at work in our SWAT regalia, or just hear Special Weapons and Tactics and get misty between the thighs. They hit on us. What are we supposed to do? Say no? Get real.”

  “My brother, the slut.”

  Teasing and joking time was over. The two were here for a reason. Nick knew how involved she was with this project. He wouldn’t drop in on a whim.

  “Forget Ursula, why the visit, and how on earth did you find me?” Charlotte laid the iPod down and sat next to Nick.

  “We went to Bodrum first. The MIAR staff directed us here. We didn’t stop to find a hotel and drove straight to the village, parked and hiked the rest of the way. The drive was quite an adventure. Someone needs to tell these folks the lines painted on the pavement aren’t road graffiti. They have a purpose.”

  “Cut to the chase, Nick. Why are you here?”

  “What do you think? You’re almost killed in a boating incident, which was no accident. The other boat mysteriously explodes. Then the guy you’re with on the gulet dies under suspicious circumstances. Naturally, we’re all concerned for you.”

  She was taken aback. “Why do you think his death was suspicious? I only told mom and dad he drowned.”

  “I’m a cop, remember? I know when a story doesn’t ring true. I called an FBI friend. He called a friend in Interpol. The Greeks are investigating his death as a possible homicide.”

  The surprise must’ve shown on her face. She knew they considered the boat incident fishy. But the last she heard Ekrem’s death was believed to be an accident.

  “They questioned me at the time. I didn’t care for their attitude. They treated me as though I was involved in illegal activity. If Ekrem’s death is ruled a homicide, I go from witness to ‘person of interest,’ don’t I?”

  She thought about this new twist. Atakan had to have heard. He hadn’t said anything, which she hoped was a good sign. The Greeks were another story. If they came to the camp asking questions, implicating her role, however innocent in a murder, what would the fallout be with the MIAR staff?

  From the dock, the loud engine of the boat that shuttled Ursula to camp rumbled. The diesel noise faded as it pulled away returning to the Suraya with more divers.

  Worse possibilities than her position on the project came to mind. “I’m scared. Nick,” she said, her panic level rising. She had no idea what, if any, criteria the Greek government used to arrest someone. “Ask your friend to talk to Interpol again. Make sure I’m not a suspect.”

  “Calm down.” Nick wrapped his arm around her. “The investigators will re-interview you and Heather, and the crew. That’s S.O.P. Tell them the truth. Nothing’s changed from the original statement. Look, if they had any evidence to incriminate you, they’d have detained you already.”

  She kissed him on the cheek. “Thanks. This whole situation is surreal. I’m at wit’s end.” Nick’s assurance settled her nerves. He knew how investigations were conducted. If he thought she was in trouble, he’d tell her.

  “Talk to the Interpol guy anyway,” she said, in another fleeting moment of panic.

  “It won’t help. He told my agent friend everything he knew about the case. I figured the Turkish authorities probably had useful info since Ekrem was their employee. We stopped at the Ministry office in Istanbul before going to Bodrum. I badged them so they knew I was a cop. I explained the situation and my concern for you. I hoped they’d be co-operative and share what they knew, professional courtesy and all. No dice. They politely, but firmly, gave me the boot. Without connections, I’m stuck. No one will talk to me.”

  As if on cue, Atakan came in with the thermos and cups.

  “I know someone we can ask. Atakan--” Charlotte waved him over. “I’d like you to meet my brother and a friend of our family’s.”

  His brow arched slightly. “Oh, am I allowed to speak to you now?”

  “Just come here, please. This is important.” She slid over on the bench making space between her and Nick for Atakan to sit.

  “Nick, Jeff, this is Atakan Vadim, my dive partner. He’s an archaeologist and the Ministry of Culture’s representative. Ekrem was his friend and co-worker.”

  The men shook hands and Atakan sat in the empty spot.

  “Atakan, my brother and Jeff are police officers in Chicago. I told them everything about the night Ekrem died. Nick heard through sources of his the Greeks think Ekrem was murdered. I know from our conversation the next day you thought it odd, considering his expertise as a swimmer. Have you heard anything? Has his death been classified a homicide?”

  Atakan showed no reaction. He turned to Nick without answering Charlotte. “What sources did you hear this from?”

  “I can’t give you a name. He was a friend of a friend,” Nick said. “Look, I understand how painful it is to lose a partner and I’m sorry about Ekrem. Since the case has taken a criminal turn, what are the ramifications for my sister? My family’s worried.”

  “You told me not to worry,” Charlotte injected.

  Nick shot her a hard, impatient look. “I meant it. I know how we handle things in Chicago. As a precaution, I’m simply verifying the rules here are basically the same.

  “She’s innocent, but who’s to say how the investigators will spin things?” he said, talking to Atakan again. “You work with her. You’ve gotten to know her. Like you, she’s a science geek. No offense.”

  “None taken.”

  “We both know she isn’t involved in this crime.”

  “Why are you telling me this?” Atakan asked. “The murder is not our jurisdiction.”

  “You must know how the Greeks operate. I don’t want Charlotte sitting in an Athens jail while they figure out she isn’t a suspect.”

  The designation of ‘suspect’ by Nick sent panic alarms off in Charlotte, again. “Jail, how--”

  “Case—”

  “What? I’m not allowed to get into the conversation? It’s my life you’re talking about. I have--”

  Nick cut her off, “Case...please.”

  “I’m sorry,” Atakan said, flatly. “I don’t understand what it is you want from me. I have no influence with them.”

  “You can talk with your superior. Tell him she’s a victim and a witness, nothing more.”

  “Victim?”

  “Yeah. If she hadn’t escaped off the gulet in time, she might’ve drowned when it sank.”

  “I’ll discuss the matter with Director Firat.”

  “That’s all I ask.”

  Charlotte breathed a sigh of relief, seeing Nick was satisfied. “Thank you. I know you...” She paused, uncertain how to express her gratitude; knowing Atakan wasn’t too fond of her. “Um...I appreciate the help. While we’re on the topic of help, we have a minor problem,” she said, happy to change the subject.

  “What’s the trouble?”

  “Nick and Jeff need a Bozburun hotel for a couple of nights and I don’t know the area very well. Can you sugg
est a place?”

  “Yes. I’ll make arrangements and take you there.”

  “That’d be great man, thanks,” Nick said.

  “Don’t forget to bring a friend when you come back,” Jeff said.

  “Bring two,” Nick teased.

  “Victory passes back and forth between men.”

  The Iliad

  Chapter Thirteen

  Atakan marked the transition in Nick’s body language with mild interest. Nick’s genial, big-brother warmth went out the door with Charlotte. The smile disappeared. His expression was serious and cold as he turned back.

  Atakan had a hunch what was next. When they talked now, Nick would use his cop persona, intimidating investigator to civilian. No doubt the hard-nosed approach was professionally effective.

  Nick had physical size going for him among other advantages. Although Atakan considered himself respectably tall, sitting shoulder to shoulder, he guessed the American had a couple of inches on him. Nick was an easy twenty pounds heavier, muscular, and big-boned. At one time, Atakan would’ve envied him. He outgrew that vanity. He was strong, but lanky, and accepted the fact he wasn’t designed to possess more than modestly defined muscles.

  Nick moved across from him and asked Jeff to keep an eye out for Charlotte. Jeff gave him a sharp nod and went to stand in the doorway. Nick rested his arms on his thighs and leaned forward. He flexed his fingers twice then clasped his hands loosely, letting them dangle between his legs in what Atakan assumed was some kind of interrogation ritual.

  Atakan leaned his back against the table and struck a casual pose. Arms folded, he stretched his legs out positioning them under the bench deliberately near Nick’s.

  Nick moved his leg a fraction farther away.

  “I want your candid opinion on something. This conversation stays confidential though,” he ordered in a stern tone.

  “Was that a request or a warning?” Atakan asked.

  “Both.”

  “Because you’re the tough guy and I’m just an archaeologist,” Atakan asked mildly. Tempted as he was, he didn’t challenge the American’s authoritarian attitude. It was a pointless and absurd tact in this particular situation.