Crescent Dawn (Dirk Pitt 21)

“Do not antagonize yourself over the failings of men long dead,” she said.

“The land was still ours when Suleiman ruled. It was the great Atatürk who sacrificed our empire,” he said in a sarcastic tone.

Maria ignored the comment, having heard her brother rail against the founder of modern-day Turkey many times before. Celik turned to his sister, his eyes ablaze with intensity. “Our heritage cannot be forgotten nor our rightful destiny denied.”

Maria nodded quietly. “The Sheikh’s wire transfer has cleared,” she said, holding up a bank transmittal.

“Twenty million euros?” he asked.

“Yes. How much did you promise the Mufti?”

“I told him to expect twelve million, so let’s give him fourteen, and we’ll keep the remainder as before.”

“Why so generous?” she asked.

“It’s important to maintain his trust. Plus, it will allow me greater influence as to where the money is spent.”

“I assume you have a strategy for that?”

“Of course. Attorneys and judicial bribes will absorb a large portion, to ensure that the Felicity Party, with Mufti Battal atop the ticket, appears on the ballot come Election Day. The remaining funds will be used for traditional political expenses; organized rallies, promotion and advertising, and additional fund-raising.”

“His coffers must be filling fast, given the squeeze he’s putting on his mosques, not to mention his general rising popularity.”

“All of which we can take credit for,” Celik replied smugly.

It had taken Celik several years to find and cultivate the right Islamic leader to front his goals. Mufti Battal had just the right mix of ego and charisma to lead the

movement while still being malleable to Celik’s designs. Under Celik’s carefully choreographed campaign of bribes and threats, Battal had consolidated pockets of fundamentalist Islamic support throughout Turkey and gradually built it into a national movement. Working behind the scenes, Celik was about to turn the religious movement into a political one. Smart enough to realize his own aspirations would meet public resistance in some quarters, he hitched his wagon to the populist Mufti.

“It appears from the media reports that public outrage is still high over the Topkapi theft,” Maria said. “It is being viewed as a very visible affront to the Muslim faithful. I would be surprised if it didn’t raise the Mufti’s popularity a percentage point or two.”

“Exactly the intent,” Celik replied. “I must ensure that he releases a public statement strongly condemning the heinous thieves,” he added with a wry smile.

He stepped over to the desk, noting an array of coins in a felt box beside a stack of research journals and a nautical chart. They were the objects stolen from Dr. Ruppé, taken by Maria when she ransacked the archaeologist’s office while visiting the museum dressed as a tourist.

“A bit risky, returning to the scene of the crime?” he asked.

“It wasn’t exactly the Topkapi Privy Chamber,” she replied. “I thought there was an outside chance our second bag of Muhammad relics might have ended up there, until I heard otherwise from the police. It was a quick and easy job to access his office.”

“Anything of interest beyond the coins?” he asked, admiring one of the gold pieces he pulled from the container.

“An Iznik ceramic box. There’s a note by the archaeologist that says it dates to the Age of Suleiman, along with the coins. They apparently all came from the shipwreck discovered by the American.”

Celik’s brow rose in interest. “So it is a Suleiman shipwreck? I wish to know more.”

There was a knock on the office door, which opened a second later to reveal a large man in a dark suit. He had a light complexion and gray, hardened eyes that had clearly witnessed the darker side of life.

“Your visitors have arrived,” he said in a coarse voice.

“Show them in,” Celik ordered, “and return with another Janissary.”

The term Janissary dated back many centuries and referred to the personal guards and elite troops of the Ottoman sultans. In an odd twist of loyalty, the original Janissaries who served the Islamic palace typically were not Muslim themselves but Christians from the Balkans area. Conscripted as young boys, they were schooled and groomed as servants, bodyguards, and even Army commanders in service to the Sultan’s empire.

In a similar fashion, Celik’s Janissaries were Christian recruits from Serbia and Croatia, mostly former military commandos. In Celik’s case, however, they were hired strictly as bodyguards and mercenaries.

The Janissary disappeared for a moment, then returned with a companion, who escorted three men into the room. They were the assassins who had chased Pitt and Loren up the Bosphorus. They shuffled in with a noticeable hint of apprehension, all avoiding direct eye contact with Celik.

“Did you eliminate the intruders?” Celik asked without greeting.