Surely nothing like that would happen again? She was merely going to translate the scroll. Still, she couldn’t help but worry. Maybe she should have thought harder before she joined the organization. At the time, she had no idea she would encounter any more life-threatening situations. And, if she were to be honest with herself, part of the attraction of the job was Riley.

  Abigail was on full alert as she passed through customs and then walked through the airport, a public not military airport this time.

  She was surprised how easy it was to transport guns on international flights. Riley had told her it was no problem to transport unloaded firearms in a locked, hard-sided gun case, along with suitably secured ammunition, as checked baggage. He simply had to declare the firearms and ammunition to the airline and go through a couple of easy procedures.

  It wasn’t until Abigail saw the sign, İzmir Adnan Menderes Havalimanı, that she realized she was in Izmir.

  Abigail was tense. Despite the air-conditioning she felt hot all over. She kept her eye on a man who appeared to be watching her. Was he a Vortex agent? Did he have a gun? She was about to point him out to Riley when he was joined by a woman with young children.

  She breathed a sigh of relief and shook her head. Her imagination was certainly running away with her.

  Abigail left Riley to use the bathroom. She was afraid someone would inject her with a deadly substance, or at least knock her over the head and push her into a stall. When a woman brushed past her, she jumped away in terror.

  Abigail forced herself to take several deep breaths. She couldn’t continue to imagine an assassin around every corner. She had to get control of her fears.

  When she walked out of the bathroom, Riley was waiting for her. He handed her a soda and a bag of potato chips. “We’ll get something more substantial as soon as we can,” he told her. Abigail shot him a grateful smile. The potato chips were welcome, but she was worried about the sugar content of the soda. She was already on a caffeine and sugar high. Maybe the potato chips would soak up some of it.

  Presently Thatcher joined them, but they had to wait longer for Ellis.

  “I hired a car,” he said by way of greeting. Without further word, he turned on his heel and marched away. The others followed him.

  The car was a white Renault. Abigail climbed into the back seat with Riley, who at once told Ellis the address of a pizza place.

  Food had never tasted so good to Abigail. She had no idea when she fell asleep, but sleep she did as she awoke with a start when the car came to a sudden stop. She looked around, startled, taking a few moments to realize where she was.

  Riley looked across at her. “We’ve booked rooms here.”

  He hurried to the car to take the luggage out of the trunk. He handed a plain brown suitcase to Abigail. “That’s yours,” he said, frowning.

  Abigail knew better than to ask questions in a public place, even though she could see no one around. “Thanks,” was all she said.

  Ellis reached for the bell and pressed it. Over the bell hung a board, which was leaning haphazardly to the left. On the board were painted the words, ‘Night Bell.’

  Ellis rang the bell a few more times before a surly looking man, short and portly with a shock of white hair, answered the door. His eyes were bloodshot and he looked as though he had awoken from a deep sleep.

  “What you want?” he said in English.

  “We’ve booked,” Ellis said.

  The man merely grunted and moved aside for them to enter.

  Abigail shot a cursory look around the lobby. The floor was carpeted in unpleasant shades of red and orange, and two mismatched upholstered chairs were pushed against one wall. Between them was a small table with magazines flung across the surface.

  Ellis handed the man some bills. The man looked at the cash and then looked up at Ellis. “Most people pay online,” he grunted.

  Ellis shrugged. “I tried to, but the Internet connection kept dropping out.”

  The man handed a key to Abigail and a key to Ellis. “Room numbers are on the keys.” He pointed to the ceiling and then disappeared through a door behind the reception desk.

  The men exchanged glances. Riley picked up his suitcase as well as Abigail’s. “Come on.”

  Abigail figured that covert operatives probably chose nondescript hotels such as this one. A wave of nausea hit her as she thought that Vortex agents might be in the same hotel. After all, they were mercenaries, and probably all agents thought alike. The idea offered her no comfort.

  When they reached Abigail’s room, Riley took Abigail’s key and said, “Wait here.” He switched on the light. The light was dim and Abigail was exhausted.

  He disappeared into the room for a few moments. When he returned, he handed Abigail the key. “The three of us are next door.” He pointed up the corridor and then pressed a burner phone into Abigail’s hands.

  “Don’t answer the door to anybody, and I mean anybody. I’ll call you on this phone in the morning. If I don’t call, don’t open the door even if I identify myself. Do you understand?”

  Abigail said that she did. She walked inside and shut the door before locking and barring it.

  The room was just as dreary as the rest of the hotel. It seemed to be clean, at least on a rudimentary inspection. There was a bed, two pillows, a desk pushed up against a wall, and through the open door she could see a bathroom. The tiny shower too seemed to be clean. “That’s something at least,” Abigail said aloud.

  Abigail opened the suitcase to see what was in there. She took out the clothes and saw to her surprise they were all her size. How did they know her size? It seemed a little too personal to her. Still, there were various toiletries so she wasn’t about to complain.

  Abigail must have been more tired than she thought, because she slept soundly and was awoken by an unfamiliar ringtone. She fumbled for the phone, groggy. It had spent the night under her pillow.

  “Can you be ready in ten? Packed and ready to go?” Riley asked.

  Abigail put on her best I am already awake voice. “Yes.”

  “I’ll call you again before I knock.”

  After five minutes, Abigail was sitting on a chair just inside the door, waiting for Riley to call again.

  “I’m coming to your door now,” he said. As soon as he knocked, she opened the door. Riley and Thatcher were smiling, but Ellis’s face formed a barely veiled scowl. As Abigail followed the three men down the corridor and into the elevator, she mused on the fact that Ellis didn’t like her. Maybe he didn’t like civilians on a mission, or maybe she reminded him of his ex-wife and their divorce had been nasty. Of course, Abigail had no idea whether Ellis had ever been married but figured there must be a reason for his attitude.

  When they were in the car, she asked, “Where are we going?”

  “We’re going to speak with Eymen Bulut’s wife. Widow,” Riley corrected himself. “She’s in Selcuk.” To Ellis, he said, “Take the Old Highway.”

  “Isn’t that slower?” Ellis asked.

  “Ten to fifteen minutes slower,” Riley said, “but we don’t have a toll sticker or transponder.”

  Abigail figured they didn’t want a credit card record of their route. She wanted to ask more questions, but she wasn’t comfortable with Ellis and Thatcher. She looked out the window, enjoying the scenery and intrigued by a massive stone fortress on a hill just before they reached Selcuk.

  Selcuk itself was nestled in the hills, a picturesque farming town enveloped by historical structures.

  “That’s the apartment above that store there,” Riley said as they drove straight past the store.

  “I thought we were going there?” Abigail asked.

  “We have to check out the area first,” Riley told her. Abigail felt somewhat foolish. Of course—that made sense.

  Presently, Ellis drove back and parked down the road a little way.

  Thatcher knocked on the store door. There was no response and Abigail wondered if the widow was elsewhere. Finally, a woman opened the door a crack and said, “I’m closed.”

  The woman’s eyes were puffy and red. Abigail’s heart went out to her.

  “We’re here from the government,” Thatcher said, flashing his badge. “And this is Dr. Abigail Spencer. She was a long-term, good friend of Professor Jason Hobbs, who I believe was friends with your husband.”

  The woman at once turned her attention to Abigail. “You knew Professor Hobbs?” she asked urgently.

  Abigail nodded. “Yes, we were good friends. I knew him for years.”

  The woman opened the door rapidly. “Come inside, all of you.”

  The woman, who introduced herself as Nehir, led them through the little jewelry shop into a back room and then up a flight of stairs into an apartment. She gestured that they should sit on two large couches.

  Abigail cast a glance around the apartment. The walls were painted an unusual shade of pink. The heavy curtains were burgundy and hung over lace, effectively blocking most of the light. The living room smelled spicy, of cinnamon and perhaps cumin. Abigail had been cold, but now she removed her jacket.

  “Coffee?”

  Everyone said they would like coffee. Abigail wondered whether they really did want coffee or whether it was just something they did to put the person they were questioning at ease. At least Abigail knew that she genuinely did want coffee.

  The woman served strong black coffee. To Abigail, it tasted like Turkish coffee. Nehir turned to Abigail. “Have you heard from Professor Hobbs?”

  Abigail shot a look at Riley. “I’m afraid Hobbs was murdered the other night in England,” Riley told her.

  Nehir’s hand flew to her mouth. “He’s dead?”

  Riley nodded. “I know this is terribly upsetting for you, but we think it was connected with the murder of your husband.”

  “But he thought he was going to meet Professor Hobbs,” she said.

  Riley shook his head. “Professor Hobbs was already dead at that point.”

  Nehir dabbed at her eyes. “My husband didn’t trust people easily,” she said. “Do you have any idea who murdered my husband? And Professor Hobbs?”

  “There are some covert international organizations that search for ancient treasures or even ancient artifacts,” Riley said.

  Nehir nodded. “Yes, Eymen often said that museums were robbed and the items would end up in the homes of wealthy Americans. Who murdered my husband, do you know?”

  “We don’t know, but we do know they were after the copper scroll,” Riley said.

  The woman looked shocked. Abigail noticed she hadn’t poured herself any coffee and her hands were trembling in her lap. “You know about the copper scroll?”

  Riley set down his coffee cup. “Yes, we want to keep it from falling into the wrong hands. That’s why Dr. Spencer is with us. She can verify the scroll. It would be a terrible thing if the scroll ended up in the wrong hands,” Riley added.

  Nehir appeared to be hesitating. She turned to Abigail. “Did Professor Hobbs tell you about the scroll?”

  Abigail had to think fast. She somehow had to gain this woman’s trust. “I’m about to present a paper at the Conference of Iron Age Anatolia. Jason had published a paper on an ostracon that mentioned Croesus’s treasure. Jason knew I was giving a paper at the conference and was trying to help me get information.”

  Nehir chewed her lip. A startled look crossed her face and Abigail wondered if she was about to run from the room.

  “It looks like one of these terrorist organizations had access to the email correspondence between your husband and Professor Hobbs,” Ellis said. “That’s no doubt how they managed to lure your husband to meet them at Ephesus with the copper scroll. To clarify, you say he thought he was meeting Professor Hobbs?”

  The woman nodded again. “How do I know I can trust you?”

  “Why don’t you google Dr. Spencer here? You can see she’s a legitimate academic and she was a friend of Jason Hobbs.”

  Abigail suddenly had an idea. “Just a moment!” She pulled her own phone out of her jeans pocket. She pulled up some photos of herself with Jason at a recent conference and handed them to Nehir. “Here I am with Jason, and if you google me, you’ll see lots of photos online.”

  Nehir took the phone from Abigail and stared at the screen for what seemed an age. Finally, she gave Abigail a searching look and then said, “So as the scroll leads to treasure, you don’t want it to fall into the wrong hands?”

  “Yes,” Riley said firmly. “That would be dangerous.”

  “And what if you had the copper scroll and got the treasure, what would your government do with that? I don’t trust any governments. Who do you work for again?”

  Thatcher leaned forward and showed her his badge.

  “I really don’t know if this is fake or not,” she said, “but I do believe this woman is who she says she is.” She rubbed her eyes and then pulled a tissue out of her pocket and sniffled into it. “I don’t know if I’m doing the wrong thing, but my husband is dead.” Her shoulders shook and it was a while before she spoke again. When she did, she added, “My husband took a fake copper scroll to the meeting.”

  Annabel gasped. The men showed no reaction.

  “You’re sure?”

  She nodded vigorously. “He guarded the whereabouts of that scroll all his life. He took the wrong scroll to the meeting.”

  “How long will it take them to discover it’s a fake?” Ellis asked Riley.

  “What was on the fake copper scroll?” Abigail asked. “And what language was it?”

  Nehir shrugged one shoulder. “Eymen said it was inventory and it was in ancient Greek.”

  “Inventory of treasure? Or of something else?”

  “Perishable goods.”

  Abigail tapped herself on the head. “Then anyone who can read ancient Greek will know it’s not the genuine scroll.”

  The woman wrung her hands. “That’s what I’ve been afraid of. I thought they’d come back here and try to make me tell them where it is.”

  “And no one has spoken to you yet?” Riley asked her.

  She shook her head. “Only the police. Although it was strange that two sets of police came and I had to repeat the same thing to the second officer.”

  “I’m going to have you extracted for your own safety,” Riley said. “It won’t be safe for you to return home until after we find the copper scroll. You’re going to be in danger until then. We might find it in a day; we might find it in a week or it might be longer. Are you prepared for that?”

  “There’s nobody I can turn to now and there’s nowhere I can go,” she said, trembling once more.

  Riley nodded. “You’ll be safe. Now tell me where the scroll is.”

  “I don’t have a clue,” she said. “My husband hid it.”

  Thatcher leaned forward. “In this apartment? In the jewelry store?”

  She waved her right hand through the air. “I have no idea, but he left a clue.”

  “What is it?” Ellis was clearly doing his best to remain patient.

  “I’ll get it for you,” she said. She crossed to the window and opened the curtains before leaving the room. Riley jumped up and went with her. She returned with an old, leather-bound Bible, which she set down on the coffee table. From it, she pulled out a piece of notepaper. She handed it to Riley.

  He read it and then handed it to Abigail.

  10

  SELCUK

  “They’ve been in there a long time,” the blonde man said. “The wife is probably telling them where the real scroll is.”

  The leader gave a nod of affirmation. “I’m sure she is.” He would soon know—the Intel would come through. He had eyes on the group and no one else but him knew this. He knew their every move. Aloud he said, “We’ll follow them and we need to make sure we stay out of sight. They’ll lead us to the copper scroll.”

  “But won’t they know we’re going to do that?”

  “They won’t know for certain unless they see us, will they?” He shot the man a hard look.

  The man flinched and looked away. The leader was still seething about Eymen Bulut leading them astray. Who would have thought he would have the foresight to swap the copper scroll? And how many of those things were there? The leader had been given to understand copper scrolls were uncommon in ancient times. His eye twitched as he fought to quell the anger that so often consumed him.

  “There.” The blonde man nudged him.

  He looked through the scope. There was the academic they were dragging along with them and there were the RHTF agents, Riley, Thatcher, and Ellis. He scowled.

  He was so lost in thought it took him a moment to realize the man was still speaking.

  “Why don’t we just abduct the woman and force her to take us to the scroll? We could take out the other agents.”

  The leader shook his head in disgust. He would have to keep an eye on this agent. He could prove to be trouble. “Those aren’t my orders. You are to follow my orders. Understand?”

  This time the man met his gaze, but he nodded.

  “If our orders change, then you’ll be the first to know.”

  “Why don’t we force the widow to tell us what she’s no doubt telling them?”

  A muscle ticked in the leader’s jaw. “Because we want them to lead us to the scroll. If they hear anything has happened to the widow, they will take extra precautions, and we don’t want that.”

  The man turned to look through the scope. “They’re standing up. They must be leaving. Shouldn’t we hurry?”

  The leader shook his head. “I’ll know soon enough where they’re going.”

  “What? You have a tracking device on them?”

  The leader smirked. “Something like that.”

  “What if there’s a back way out of there?” one of the men asked him.

  “And that’s exactly why we have someone watching the back entrance onto the street,” the leader said. These men irritated him. Still, Vortex paid him highly. And if Vortex wanted these men to tag along with him, so be it. So long as they didn’t get in his way.