Ghosts of Larymna

Kemal clambered to the top of the abandoned quarry, sweat dripping from every pore of his tanned body. Below, Professor Stewart's naked body appeared doll-like, sprawled against the hewn wall. His love, Elena Rose, was more carefully laid to rest in her best yellow chiffon. He tossed the Professor's briefcase into the pit. It tumbled to lie somewhere between the two bodies.

Kemal slapped dust off his pants, scanning the Mediterranean. No boats chugged near these isolated shores along the coast of Turkey.

He turned to a large boulder perched at cliff's edge, stuck his lever beneath it, and pushed. Grunting, his muscles bulging, the stone slowly rolled off balance and tumbled.

The ground he stood upon trembled as all the carefully placed cuts he had made along the marble canyon gave under the weight of the boulder. The crash deafened him.

A huge cloud of dust rose. As it settled, only rubble met the eye. A whine in his ear sounded almost like the imam's call to prayers, but that was unlikely.

Kemal smiled. No one would ever find them.
#
A distant chirrup sounded from the bridge as Kemal climbed aboard the Troy, a Turkish sailboat called a gulette. Again. Pulse racing, he scurried into the wheelhouse in the stern, located the cell phone, then wiped his damp palms on his swim trunks. "Good evening."

"Hello. Tait? Is that you old man? Do speak up."

"This is Kemal Hadurasi. Professor Stewart is unavailable. To whom am I speaking?"

"Ah, yes, Kemal. This is Dr. Minash. Where is he? Never mind. Put Miss Reid on."

Kemal lowered the phone, his hands shaking. Possible repercussions sent shivers down his back. This was his boss, head of the Ministry of Archaeology. "Sir, she is not here. They took a skiff and went around the peninsula to another bay and have not returned."

"Oh, I see. Very well then. Could you relay the news we will arrive tomorrow at 10 a.m.? We'd like to discuss progress. And I'd like a report on your thesis work."