The Lost Ark by J.R. Rain Read Free Book Online Page A

I continued pushing, “Last month, two American scientists disappeared on Ararat, about the same time you found your marker.” I let my words hang in the air for a moment. “This would be a coincidence, correct?”
    Omar turned, his smile revealing his sharp canine teeth, a wolfish smile. “I can hardly be responsible for the safety of two men foolish enough to trespass upon Mount Ararat.”
    I drained the last of the beer, considering the significance of his words. “And how did you know, emir, that both American scientists were men? Was it just a Freudian slip, cultural bias or just male arrogance?” I paused, swirling the contents of my near-empty beer bottle. “Or do you know something about their disappearance?”
    Instead of answering, he inhaled deeply, ribs pushing out against the material of his robe, forehead dotted with perspiration. He looked directly into my eyes and held my gaze. “The second reason I’m here, Mr. Ward, is to give you fair warning. My sources tell me that there is an American woman in town, a young college professor. She has come to Ararat to search for her missing father. She will be seeking a guide. Being a fellow American you are a likely candidate.” Omar paused. “She wishes to illegally obtain access to the mountain, my mountain . This is not wise, my friend. Consider the money as an incentive to stay away. Good day, Mr. Ward.”
    With that, the emir left. And as Farid Bastian followed, he caught my eye. He nodded simply. The heavy door clicked softly shut behind them.
    When they were gone I opened another beer. To hell with inventory.

    Chapter Ten

    At 4:53 a.m., I was leaning against the fender of my Range Rover in front of my bar, smoking a cigarette and watching a potato chip bag scuttle across the dirt road, sunrise still an hour away. The air was cold and damp, and a faint mist crept along Dogubayazit’s empty dirt streets. The air smelled clean, but also like more rain, too.
    At 4:57 a.m., Faye Roberts emerged from within the Gule Gule . Bright-eyed and bushy-tailed. She moved quickly and confidently. Long, even strides. Probably an athlete in college. Volleyball? Swim team? Full contact bingo? She wore loose-fitting blue jeans and a green windbreaker with a wide white stripe across her chest. Her tan hiking boots were brand spanking new. I shook my head and exhaled a long stream of smoke and silently predicted she would get blisters within an hour of climbing. Her brown hair was pulled back through the rear opening of an L.A. Dodgers baseball cap. She was holding a small, colorful knapsack, pulled tight with a drawstring.
    “Go Dodger blue,” I said when she was close enough to hear.
    “Dodger who?”
    “Never mind,” I said. “You sleep well?”
    She shook her head. “Too nervous and too excited.”
    “Both of which can be detrimental to sleep.”
    She nodded and shoved her hands deep in her pockets, keeping her arms close to her body for warmth. A single horse-drawn cart slowly emerged from the mist. Wearing only a thin white robe, the solitary rider seemed inadequately dressed for the cool morning. As the cart approached, I saw that the driver was an old man, a farmer, with a long gray beard that threatened to swallow his face. Two brown geldings shouldered the load of figs and olives to be sold in Dogubayazit’s open market. I waved to the farmer. He waved back, eyes lingering on Faye. He grinned toothily, and I figured the old man could probably count on one hand the number of American women he had seen. And with Faye Roberts looking fresh and pretty and alert, his perception of American women would be slightly skewed.
    “Are we ready?” asked Faye, rubbing her hands together.
    “Packed and ready,” I said. I opened the rear door and placed her knapsack with the backpacks, then opened the front passenger door for her. Which apparently was a mistake.
    “Please, Sam, if I need help, I’ll ask for it. I’m here to find my father, not to make friends or