“I’m not sorry,” Carina said. “It gave me the chance to meet you in person, and to thank you for all you have done. Besides, we’re not through here yet.”

“But you have seen that the statues are only a tourist item.”

Austin lined up the figurines on the table. “How far is the town where these were made?”

“It’s on the TurquoiseCoast. About five hundred miles. Are you thinking of extending your visit to Turkey?”

Austin picked up a figurine. “I’d like to talk to the artist who made this.”

“So would I,” Carina said. “It’s quite possible he used a life-sized model.”

“This statue must be very valuable.”

“Maybe,” Austin said. “Maybe not.”

“I understand the need for discretion,” Cemil said, rising from the table. “Dalyran is only about an hour from here by plane. From there, it’s not a bad drive to Kayakoy. If you’ll excuse me, I’ll be on my way, but if you need any help please let me know. I have a great many connections in Istanbul.”

A few minutes after Cemil left, Austin and Carina hailed a taxi to drive them back to the hotel. The desk clerk found two seats on an early-morning plane to Dalyran and made car rental arrangements as well. As they stood in the hotel lobby, Carina said, “Now what, Mr. Tour Guide?”

Austin pondered her question and said, “I think I can do something off the beaten path.”

A cab took them back to the archaeological dig. Austin asked Hanley if he needed volunteers. He put them to work shoveling mud through strainers. Carina didn’t seem to mind being covered from head to toe with Bosphorus mud. She jumped about like an excited schoolgirl whenever they found a coin or broken pottery from the muck.

They worked until late at night, when the van came by to take the NUMA crew back to the hotel. As they trudged through the hotel lobby, Austin and Carina were so tired they hardly noticed the pair of men sitting in plush chairs reading magazines. Nor were they aware that two pairs of eyes followed them every step of the way to the elevator.

NUMA 7 - The Navigator

Chapter 27

AUSTIN TURNED THE RENTED RENAULT off the TurquoiseCoast highway onto a road that twisted and turned like a spastic snake. The road ran for several miles through cultivated countryside and sleepy villages. As the car rounded a bend, ruins could be seen on the crest of a hill.

Austin parked next to a cluster of buildings. The abandoned village had become a state-run tourist attraction. The inevitable ticket seller was waiting to take their modest admission fee. He pointed the way toward the village, and went to intercept a car with two men in it that pulled up next to the Renault.