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

to propagate the myth that women are inferior to men.” She took a deep breath and I gulped and tried to shrink away. “I would like to warn you, Sam Ward, that I have taken many self-defense classes and can take care of myself. I don’t want any problems on this trip.”
    “Are you finished making me feel like a sexist pig?”
    Apparently not. “Although Camilla assures me that you are completely trustworthy, spending time alone with a stranger is a frightening prospect. I want your word that you will not try any funny business.”
    I held up my right hand and put my left on an invisible Bible. “I do solemnly swear that I will not engage in any funny business or any gestures of random kindness.”
    She eyed me carefully. I gave her my most serious look. She finally relaxed, exhaling a long stream of frosted air. She stepped into the passenger seat and closed the door firmly. I let myself in through the driver’s door and started the engine, which sputtered and coughed. Then roared to life. I shifted gears and headed north into town.
    I maneuvered around the old farmer, who waved again, leaning forward to get a look at Faye. On the corner of Mersin and Alanya, I waited patiently for a young shepherd to regain control of his unruly sheep. He was running this way and that, having a horrible time of it. I turned the Rover off and stepped out into the cool morning.
    “Wait here,” I said.
    “Where are you going?”
    “Just sit back and enjoy. This should be entertaining.”
    Soon I was chasing sheep up cobbled sidewalks and down flooded gutters. I darted and slashed and would have made Barry Sanders proud. I slipped in mud and sheep gifts, and a short while later, with the woolly beasts under some semblance of control, I returned to the truck, out of breath. Faye’s cheeks, as if pinched by a loving grandmother, were brightly pink.
    “That was entertaining,” she agreed. “Now let’s get the hell out of here.”
    I moved the Rover forward, and a minute later glanced her way. She was still smiling. A minor victory in trust through humiliation. After all, anyone who would run with the sheep must not be all that bad, right?
    * * *
    I stopped the Rover in the middle of Dogubayazit’s massive outdoor market, which covered many dozens of square acres. Although some of the booths were still setting up for the day, others already displayed fruits and vegetables and baked goods, meats, dairy products, grains, pickles, nuts, peaches, grapes, tomatoes, lemons, watermelons, onions, eggplants, potatoes and peppers. Also, fine mohair rugs, pots, clothing and cheap jewelry. One booth sold perfume. That booth always gave me a headache.
    “Want some breakfast?” I asked. “It’s part of the package.”
    “In that case, sure.”
    Faye Roberts attracted most of the attention. Shopkeepers and store owners called out to her, beseeching her to consider their goods. She ignored them all like a pro. At one such stall I selected two loaves of bread; at another a quarter pound of goat cheese.
    Twenty minutes later, we were headed east along the Trabzon-Erzurum-Teheran international transit highway, an unusually excellent asphalt road for this part of the country. Already the highway hummed with traffic. We silently ate our cheese and bread as the motor chugged comfortingly and the eastern sky turned from purple to violet.

    Chapter Eleven

    The Bayazit plain spread to either side of the road in swatches of browns and tans, the colors of coffee-stained teeth, without the bad breath. The plain was sprinkled sparingly with firs, cedars and alders, and liberally with tall grasses and massive sun-bleached boulders. The sky had become pinkish and bright, although actual sunrise was still a few minutes away.
    Hunched forward over the wheel, I was studying the side of the road, headlights on high. Thick foliage lined the road, a product of nearby swampy lands.
    Suddenly I turned the wheel hard, and we went down a dirt embankment and Faye