Salamandra Book I: Pale Blue Flesh

Scene Six

Ortaköy, Turkey.

There was a golden haze in the air, a shimmering brightness reflecting off the waters of the Bosphorous that mandated sunglasses for every patron of the busy café. Catalina Benita Salvar was quiet, squinting through her tinted lenses to admire the ornate, Neo-Baroque style of the Ortaköy Mosque that sat proudly on the jetty. She was reviewing her knowledge of the historical significance of this city during both the Byzantine and Ottoman periods when she was abruptly brought back to the present by the unmistakable voice of Mr. K rising above the countless conversations chattering around them.

"Ahem! You are prepared for the examination?" he said coarsely. Catalina sighed and slowly turned to face him. He looked ridiculous in his sunglasses, giant frames that completely obscured his cheeks and looked as if they would crush his nose. Despite the overwhelming size of the glasses, she could still see disobedient tufts of his eyebrows rising above them. The huge lenses made him look more like an insect than a man. Beside the little bugman loomed his ever present guardian, whose unnerving stare alternated between the crowd mingling about the coastal pier square, and her apparently irresistible torso. An empty fourth chair had been added to their table upon Mr. K's request.

"I suppose," she answered with exaggerated indifference. "But I really wish you'd given me more time. Realistically, I'd need months of research to confidently pinpoint the most conclusive yet easily identifiable attributes of these artifacts."

"Time is a luxury we do not have," Mr. K answered in an authoritarian tone. He sipped his steaming tea before continuing. "You assured me that you'd be able to do this."

Catalina clenched her jaw in response to the man's many rings scratching across the porcelain teacup like fingernails on a chalkboard. She paused before answering, insisting on a retaliatory sip from her own tall glass of iced tea. "I assured you of nothing," she finally replied. "What I said was...using the criteria I've developed, which is based on scant historical information, I should be able to verify authenticity to a certain degree of accuracy. If the artifacts can be verified to that level of sophistication, then the probability of authenticity is raised high enough that..." Catalina's voice trailed off as Mr. K rudely leaned in front of her to point at something.

"Shush!" he spat out. "I believe this is our contact."

Catalina turned to watch a tall, lanky, Turkish man approach their table, carrying a parcel against his right hip. He looked like a nervous wreck, his eyes constantly flitting side to side, up and down, never focused for more than a moment in one direction. He nodded cautiously to Mr. K's massive companion, then leaned down to address the older man himself. Catalina wondered how the newcomer could keep a straight face while looking into the oversized sunglasses.

"How do you drink your tea?" the man asked.

Mr. K gestured to his porcelain cup then over at Catalina's tall glass. "Hot or cold," he answered. Upon hearing these words, the Turkish man sat down in the empty chair and placed the box on the table. Catalina noticed for the first time that the soiled cardboard had been stamped "TEA" on all four sides.

"Then perhaps I can interest you in a rare treasure to enjoy back home?" the stranger asked. Without hesitation, Catalina leaned forward and pulled the cardboard flaps open to reveal an aged wooden box. Before she could reach inside, the stranger rose from his seat to snatch her forearm and pull it back.

"Please!" he gasped. "If you remove the carton, it will be exposed to...the sunlight."

Mr. K's companion rose out of his chair too, watching as Catalina looked down at the stranger's hand still clutching her arm, her expression calm but clearly annoyed. The man looked nervously over at the muscled bodyguard then bobbed his head and released her.

"Pardon," he muttered as he returned to his seat. Mr. K's big man also sat back down and the wooden chair creaked in protest.

"That's true," Catalina agreed as she lifted the box into her lap. She had forgotten that they needed to be very discreet out in public. "Let me carefully peek inside then."

"Hey now!" a new voice interrupted. The three anxious people gathered around the table all glanced up from the box to see Romeo Piper standing in front of them, looking bold and confident beneath his gleaming pompadour. He wore tight white pants and a brightly colored shirt that was iridescent in the sunshine, unbuttoned enough to reveal a clump of glittering necklaces within a nest of chest hair. None of them knew who he was, but they all realized he was suspiciously out of place here. "You're having a tea party and nobody invited me?"

The Turkish man immediately panicked, sending his chair flying as he leapt to his feet, but suddenly there was a handgun in Piper's hand, booming as he callously shot the man right between the eyes. A cloud of blood and brain matter burst from the back of his skull.

"Oh wait!" Piper shouted as people began screaming. "Now there's an empty seat for me!"

Mr. K's large assistant reacted instantly, moving at a speed that defied his bulk, flipping the table up and slamming it into Piper to knock the gun loose. Teacups and glasses shattered on the stone patio as Mr. K tumbled backwards out of his chair, jarring loose the billboard-sized sunglasses. Catalina screamed and lunged to the side to avoid the gunfire, losing track of the cardboard box that fell in the opposite direction.

The man with the topknot definitely had the weight advantage over the man with the pompadour, and he pinned Piper down with a tree-like forearm against the mobster's throat. Piper was a strong man himself and he snarled in concentrated effort as he tried to knock his attacker away with violent punches. Screams echoed all around the two combatants as people fled the scene, while one of the waiters began blowing a loud whistle repeatedly as an alarm. Mr. K was laying prone on the ground, while Catalina was wisely trying to crawl away from the scene without getting trampled.

"Son...of...a...bitch!" Piper growled as he continued trying to wrestle free. "Get offa me so I can kill that idiot with the whistle!" But it was to no avail; there was no escaping from the big man's grip. The mass of muscles finally managed to pin Piper's head still on the ground, then reared back with a meaty fist ready to strike. That was when the big man felt a tapping on his shoulder. With his fist still poised in the air, he looked up to see half a dozen American goons surrounding him with guns pointed at his head. Piper suddenly chuckled beneath the weight.

"Your call, king kong," Piper challenged.

The big man took a deep breath, exhaled, then let go of Piper's head and began to stand up. Piper quickly rolled onto his back and kicked up with both feet to unexpectedly drive his heels into his attacker's crotch. The big man made an animalistic noise and crumpled.

"Screw you!" Piper screamed. As the big man gasped on his knees, Piper leapt to his feet, grabbed a gun from one of his henchmen, and fired twice into the chest of the waiter still blowing the whistle. "Shut the hell up!" he yelled at the dying man. Then he strode over to stare at the big man who was still wheezing on the ground.

"I said, screw you!" he screamed into the bodyguard's ear, his body tense with anger and surging adrenaline. Then he savagely clubbed the big man in the back of the head with the gun. "Screw...you!"

Piper wandered around the scene until he found his sunglasses, then picked them up and put them back on with a smile. "Don't just stand there, you assholes," he said to his henchmen. "Grab the box and let's get to the embassy."

"Please!" came a pleading voice from the chaos. Piper walked over to Mr. K, who was still on the ground but now propped up on an elbow.

"I'm a very rich man," Mr. K persisted. "I'll pay you anything to leave the box behind."

"Sorry, pops," Piper replied, "I already bring home a nice paycheck." Then he turned and pointed to Catalina, who hadn't gotten very far from the deadly scene. "Besides, I still haven't decided whether I'm going to let you and this hot senorita live."

TO BE CONTINUED . . .