As the professor spoke, a map appeared on the wall behind him, quickly marking the mentioned countries as Shia or Sunni.
‘What you’re talking about,’ Doolan said, ‘is the distinct possibility that the Middle East might draw battle lines that we haven’t seen before. The continued American presence in Iraq, on the ground militarily and lurking in the political background, is a constant red flag to the Islamic world.’
‘Looking at the map, I see that Iraq is marked as a Shia region.’
‘Yes, though there are many who disagree, myself among them, with that designation.’
‘You don’t agree that Iraq is primarily a Shia nation?’
‘I don’t. I think those numbers were inflated at the beginning of our second Iraqi conflict.’
Another limousine pulled up in front of Webster’s location. As he watched, the driver helped a beautiful woman from the back seat. Her blonde hair, neatly coifed, shone in the afternoon sun. A black leather coat hung to her sculpted calves. Her burgundy red Manolo Blahniks were anything but sensible. Webster wouldn’t have expected anything less.
He knocked on the window and the secret service agent nearest the door let him out.
‘Thank you, Brandon,’ Webster acknowledged.
‘My pleasure, sir.’
Webster approached the woman and he watched her head swivel to face him. She smiled, and the effect was dazzling.
‘Mr Vice-President,’ she greeted him.
Smiling, Webster waved a hand. ‘Vicky, please, if I’ve told you once, I told you a thousand times. Call me Elliott.’
Eserin Crown Hotel
Sultanahmet District
Istanbul, Turkey
17 March 2010
Inside the bathroom, Lourds set the shower for a hot, invigorating spray, lathered quickly – twice – and shampooed. Despite the promise of the lovely woman waiting for him in his bedroom, his mind kept wandering back to the book in his backpack. When it came to his relationships, the women in his life could only be mistresses that pulled him away from his love of his work. Or, in Olympia Adnan’s case, he could share that work. Unfortunately, they were both tied to different fields of expertise and to different geographical locations. Neither of them would give up their university environment. Those were their retreats as well as recharge centres.
When he returned to the room, Olympia still sat in a state of near undress while sitting cross-legged on the bed. The book Lourds had stolen from the men in the catacombs lay in her lap and consumed her attention so much that she didn’t know he was there for a time.
‘Find anything interesting?’ he asked.
Olympia started, then swept the hair from her eyes and smiled. ‘My apologies. I thought I’d set up your workstation.’ She waved to the nearby desk where she’d spread out his books, computer, map tools, cameras and digital recorder. ‘Then I found this. Something new you’re working on?’
‘It is. Does it look familiar to you?’
She shook her head. ‘It’s written in Greek, but not any kind of Greek I was ever trained to read.’
‘I think very few people could read that.’
‘Why?’
‘Because I believe it’s an artificial language.’
‘Hundreds – I’m assuming here, of course – of years ago?’
‘More like two thousand, unless I miss my guess.’
‘I would trust your instincts on something like that.’
‘Good.’ Lourds sat on the bed beside her.
‘But what makes you think this is so old?’
‘A test?’ Lourds grinned.
‘As I recall, you always did well with tests.’
Lourds flipped through the pages of the book. ‘The paper is old, probably hundreds of years. Handmade. Not purchased off a rack at a department store.’
‘The size gives that away immediately.’
‘Very good.’ Lourds dipped his head in appreciation. ‘But that only covers the handmade part. The age I’m going to guess at because of the stylized lettering and because of the rag content in the paper rather than wood. Charles Fenerty and F. G. Keller invented a paper-making machine and technique that used pulped wood instead of rags in 1844.’ He tapped the book. ‘These sheets were made out of a rag-fibre slurry and calendered to improve the writing surface.’
‘Impressive.’
Lourds shrugged, but he was pleased with himself. ‘Even if this turns out to be a copy of something else, which I think it could well be, its age alone makes it a worthwhile artefact.’
‘So what’s this about?’
‘I’m not sure yet.’
‘You?’ Olympia smiled in disbelief. ‘The incredible Professor Thomas Lourds is stumped?’
‘Only a minor setback, I assure you.’ Lourds ran his fingers over the textured pages. ‘I’m already starting to make some headway, I think.’
‘All this while dodging terrorists at the airport?’
‘Multi-tasker, remember?’ Lourds gazed longingly at the flowing script, then reached out and flipped through the pages.
Olympia closed the book. ‘Nope. Not at this moment, Professor. You’re tired, and you know you’re not at your best when you’re overly fatigued. All you’ll do is stare at those pages while your brain spins helplessly.’
‘Really?’ Lourds loved the way she knew him so well.
‘Yes, really.’ Olympia ran her fingers through his hair and massaged his scalp. ‘After you get a few hours’ sleep, you’ll perform much better.’
‘At solving the riddle of the book, I assume you mean.’
She tweaked his nose playfully and grinned. ‘That. And certain other distractions.’
‘Any clue as to what those distractions might entail?’
Without a word, Olympia set the book aside, then put a hand on his chest and pressed him back on the bed. When Lourds lay supine, she shimmied out of the skirt suit and straddled him wearing only her teal panties. The gauzy material didn’t leave much to the imagination.
She leaned forward and kissed him, and her hips naturally pressed against his hips. His erection was trapped against her sheer panties and her warm excitement soon allowed her to glide up and down against him. They continued kissing, and Lourds’ tongue parried hers again and again. Her breath came in shorter gasps and she inadvertently shivered as she stroked against him harder and harder.
Lourds thrust up against her and held in check his own impulse to flip her over and rip the thin material away. Within the next moment, though, she shivered and convulsed, then collapsed against his chest. He luxuriated in the warm feel of her flesh pressing against his. He stroked her back, running his fingers from her shoulder blades to her buttocks.
Minutes passed. Lourds was beginning to think she’d fallen asleep.
‘That,’ she said groggily, ‘was better than I’d expected.’
‘I’m only here to please.’
Olympia pushed her head and shoulders up and rolled her hips against his erection. ‘I don’t totally believe you, Professor.’
‘Well, please you, please me.’
After a quick kiss, Olympia rolled onto her back. Lourds gently followed her over, grateful for the spacious bed. He watched as she hooked her panties and slid them off.
‘Come on,’ she urged, opening her legs to receive him.
Lourds moved above her, supporting his own weight, then he teased her, rubbing his slick length against her desire-thickened centre without penetrating her. She squirmed against him in an attempt to find the proper angle to capture him within her.
‘You… you really aren’t playing… nice,’ Olympia protested.
‘As nice as you were earlier.’ Lourds leaned down and nuzzled her neck, licking right below her ear and sending her into a paroxysm of jangled nerves. He knew she loved and hated the sensation equally. Before she could admonish him, though, he adjusted and sheathed himself in her hot flesh. Whatever complaint she might have intended to lodge died as she gasped in pleasure.
Lourds moved against her, amazed at how familiar and how different everything seemed. He had missed her, and knew he would miss her again in the near future. But for now he gave himself to her and took what she had to offer.