Byzantine Gold by Chris Karlsen Read Free Book Online Page B

archaeologists in Egypt. The false letter circumvented the possibility of Jafari’s family sending a death notification to MIAR.
    The eastbound tram Darav needed to return to his hotel had three cars, one more than the earlier tram he rode. The middle and rear cars were packed. Like a fool, he didn’t question the disparity in passenger numbers and boarded the emptier first car. Reserved for women only, he was laughed out of the car by the conductor and women. He squeezed onto the rear car, clutching the plastic bag to his chest, distrusting the riders pressed against him.
    He was booked on the last flight out from Cairo to Baghdad. The false Syrian passport he traveled on would clear Iraqi Immigration. From Baghdad, he’d suffer the uncomfortable three-hundred-fifty kilometer bus trip to Irbil. The route from Diyarbakir Airport was less tortuous but far more dangerous. Diyarbakir was close to his home village in the Mardin Province. In Mardin, he could move from village to village, staying in safe houses until he reached the Qandil Mountains and the Iraqi border. More than dangerous, such a plan was impossible. A flight to Diyarbakir required him to clear Turkish Immigration in either Istanbul or Ankara first. The passport wouldn’t fool the authorities. They’d run him through facial recognition and he was wanted in Turkey. They’d arrest him on sight and he’d be tried for treason. Cairo to Baghdad was his best option.
    Once he arrived in Irbil, he’d contact a covert organization of sympathizers to the cause. Talented experts there would remove the biometric chip in Jafari’s passport. They’d adapt a new chip with Darav’s iris scan and fingerprint in its place.

Chapter Nine

    Salamis Bay, Cyprus-June
    Refik and Talat greeted Charlotte and Atakan at Larnaca Airport. They welcomed Charlotte with warm hugs and a kiss on each cheek.
    “It’s great seeing you,” she said. She’d worked with both on a Bronze Age shipwreck the previous dive season and was happy to work with them again. “I appreciate you requested me. It means a lot.” 
    Refik and the MIAR staff liked to give the opportunity of working their wreck projects to new people. They chose students from different countries who needed field experience for their doctorates in nautical archaeology. She’d submitted her request for consideration. Atakan’s friendship with Refik went back many years. A hint from her suggesting he use his influence with Refik was instantly shot down. His position with the Ministry forbade him from interceding on her behalf. Any attempt carried serious repercussions.
    All her hopes lay with Refik, who had the final say in choice. If he selected her, she’d be granted a work visa. A work visa allowed her another avenue to stay in Turkey. Although the wreck was off the coast of Cyprus, MIAR was headquartered in Bodrum, Turkey. Visa requests for MIAR’s participants were issued by the Ankara government and honored in Northern Cyprus. If they hadn’t selected her, she’d be forced to reapply for an extension of her residence permit. Immigration rules and bureaucratic red tape made those hard to obtain.
    For both professional and personal reasons she wished to stay in Turkey, personal being the most important. The relationship between her and Atakan thrived. She adored the obstinate, if diplomacy challenged, devil. When MIAR didn’t immediately approve her application for assignment to the Cyprus wreck, she expressed her heightened visa concerns. Atakan reassured her she worried for nothing. He should’ve stopped there.
    “If necessary, we can marry,” Atakan had offered.
    From the pained look on his face the instant the words left his lips, he knew he’d screwed up. What woman could or would let it slide?
    With a grossly insincere and dramatic palm to her chest, she said, “Be still my heart. Who can resist such a noble sacrifice oh Sultan of Romance?”
    “I didn’t mean it to come out as bad as it