Solomon's Fortune: Ethan Chase Thriller, #2

By Peter Martuneac

"You're dancing with the Devil, Ethan. Did you not think you'd get burned?"

Ethan Chase's old friend and mentor Mohammed provides Ethan with a clue that sends him on the trail of a priceless treasure that dried the River Jordan and laid low the walls of Jericho: the Ark of the Covenant, along with the lost wealth of King Solomon.

Frankie and Mei once again join Ethan on a globe-trotting adventure that takes them from the deserts of the Middle East, to the streets of Rome, and to dangerous, uninhabited islands. Yet whispers of a race for a legendary relic travel far and reach dark corners of the world, and one billionaire arms dealer is willing to spend her entire fortune to find the Ark... and kill whoever tries to stop her.

EVOLVED PUBLISHING PRESENTS the second fast-paced book in the "Ethan Chase Thriller" series of globe-trotting, treasure-hunting adventures. Ethan Chase is back, and this time he's after one of the greatest relics in recorded history. [DRM-Free]

 

• Language: English
• Publisher: Evolved Publishing LLC
• Release date: Nov 8, 2022
• ISBN: 9781622531851

Peter Martuneac

Ever since he read The Lord of the Rings at age 12, Peter Martuneac has had a passion for storytelling. He began writing his own high fantasy story that same year and carried on writing for the rest of his childhood, but could not find a way to finish the story. The incomplete manuscript found a home on the top shelf of a closet, and there it remains (though he hopes to one day return to that world and see it through to the end). At 18, he joined the US Marines, and in the deserts of Afghanistan, he finally started and completed a full-length manuscript. He wrote it entirely by hand, in the sunlight by day and in the dim, red glow of a military flashlight by night. He went on to self-publish this manuscript, a zombie fiction story, followed by two sequels and a short story prequel, and is intensely proud of those works. Peter is now writing for Evolved Publishing, and is excited to be on this new road in his journey as an author. Peter is married, has two amazing children and a loyal dog (who is a very good boy). Besides writing, he enjoys reading biographies, collecting coins, and getting his heart broken year after year by his favorite sports teams.

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SOLOMON’S FORTUNE

Ethan Chase Thriller – Book 2

Copyright © 2022 Peter Martuneac

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ISBN (EPUB Version): 162253185X

ISBN-13 (EPUB Version): 978-1-62253-185-1

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Editor: Mike Robinson

Cover Artist: Kris Norris

Interior Designer: Lane Diamond

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PUBLISHER’S NOTE:

At the end of this novel of approximately 71,024 words, you will find two Special Sneak Previews: 1) GOLD OF THE JAGUAR by Peter Martuneac, the next installment [Book 3] of this exciting Ethan Chase Thriller series of adventures, and; 2) ATACAMA by Burt Clinchandhill, the critically-acclaimed third book in the Matthew Bishop series of adventure thrillers. We think you’ll enjoy these books, too, and provide these previews as a FREE extra service, which you should in no way consider a part of the price you paid for this book. We hope you will both appreciate and enjoy the opportunity. Thank you.

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eBook License Notes:

You may not use, reproduce or transmit in any manner, any part of this book without written permission, except in the case of brief quotations used in critical articles and reviews, or in accordance with federal Fair Use laws. All rights are reserved.

This eBook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only; it may not be resold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each recipient. If you’re reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, please return to your eBook retailer and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.

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Disclaimer:

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are products of the author’s imagination, or the author has used them fictitiously.

Books by Peter Martuneac

ETHAN CHASE THRILLER

Book 1: Mandate of Heaven

Book 2: Solomon’s Fortune

Book 3: Gold of the Jaguar [Spring 2023]

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HIS NAME WAS ZACH

Book 1: His Name Was Zach

Book 2: Her Name Was Abby

Book 3: Their Names Were Many

Abby: Alone (A Short Story)

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www.PeterMartuneac.com

BONUS CONTENT

We’re pleased to offer you not one, but two Special Sneak Previews at the end of this book.

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In the first preview, you’ll enjoy the first two chapters of Peter Martuneac’s novel, GOLD OF THE JAGUAR, the next installment [Book 3] of this exciting Ethan Chase Thriller series of adventures.

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OR GRAB THE FULL EBOOK TODAY!

FIND LINKS TO YOUR FAVORITE RETAILER HERE:

PETER MARTUNEAC’S Books at Evolved Publishing

In the second preview, you’ll enjoy the prologue and first chapter of Burt Clinchandhill’s ATACAMA, the critically-acclaimed third book in the Matthew Bishop series of adventure thrillers.

~~~

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OR GRAB THE FULL EBOOK TODAY!

YOU’LL FIND LINKS TO YOUR FAVORITE RETAILER HERE:

MATTHEW BISHOP Series at Evolved Publishing

Table of Contents

Copyright

Books by Peter Martuneac

BONUS CONTENT

Table of Contents

Dedication

SOLOMON’S FORTUNE

Prologue

Chapter 1 – The Ink of the Scholar

Chapter 2 – On the Road Again

Chapter 3 – Raiders of the Lost Ark

Chapter 4 – The House of David

Chapter 5 – In Jericho

Chapter 6 – The Holy Land

Chapter 7 – An Unexpected Meeting

Chapter 8 – Fight and Flight

Chapter 9 – The Well of Souls

Chapter 10 – Saved by the Blood

Chapter 11 – A Man’s Home is His Castle

Chapter 12 – The Reward of an Evil Deed

Chapter 13 – T.I.A.

Chapter 14 – The Apostle

Chapter 15 – All Roads

Chapter 16 – The Church of the Holiest Apostles

Chapter 17 – Three’s a Crowd

Chapter 18 – Kicking Against the Pricks

Chapter 19 – High Speed

Chapter 20 – Dancing with the Devil

Chapter 21 – Nowhere to Hide

Chapter 22 – Paying Old Debts

Chapter 23 – Back on Track

Chapter 24 – Treasure Island

Chapter 25 – Kriegsmarine

Chapter 26 – Secrets of the Past

Chapter 27 – A Proposal

Chapter 28 – And Your Enemies Closer

Chapter 29 – At the Edge of the World

Chapter 30 – Under the Mountain

Chapter 31 – The Last Supper

Chapter 32 – God’s Covenant

Chapter 33 – A Question of When

Chapter 34 – A Job for a Ranger

Chapter 35 – In a Rush to Die

Chapter 36 – Fun Run

Chapter 37 – Uzzah

Chapter 38 – The Calm that Follows

Chapter 39 – Retirement

Special Sneak Preview: GOLD OF THE JAGUAR by Peter Martuneac

Acknowledgements

About the Author

What’s Next?

More from Peter Martuneac

More from Evolved Publishing

Special Sneak Preview: ATACAMA by Burt Clinchandhill

Dedication

For my amazing wife. Without your love and support, this would not have been possible. And for my wonderful children, you can read this when you’re older.

Prologue

Czarina Barinov waited just outside the Executive Suite of Bogatyr Tower, the corporate headquarters of Russia’s premier weapons manufacturer, Bogatyr Industries. Using her iPhone camera, she inspected her crimson lipstick one more time. Perfect, she thought. Not even the smallest trace of a smudge. The color, chosen purposefully to maximize her aura of unquestioned authority, accentuated her sharp green eyes. Yes, she was ready.

Ms. Barinov? The board will see you now, said the young woman at the desk.

Thank you, Anastasia, Czarina replied. She stood up from the plush leather couch and smoothed out her black, knee-length dress. Some women opted for pants and a jacket when they wanted to intimidate men in a man’s world, but not Czarina. She viewed that as a sign of weakness, dressing like a man to mask insecurities. She didn’t need to pretend to be powerful and confident; she was powerful and confident. And so she wore dresses, heels, and jewelry, things that flaunted her femininity. When she imposed her will on the men in that room, she would do so as an unabashed, unapologetic woman.

Anastasia opened the door to the suite. Ten men in pinstripe suits, sitting around a dark walnut table, all rose from their chairs. Czarina, my darling, said the man nearest the door. He clasped her hands in his as they kissed each other on each cheek. I hope you are taking the loss of your father better than I am.

Thank you, Uncle Sergei, she replied. I think I’m finally pulling through.

Please, have a seat in your father’s chair. We don’t wish to take much of your time. I know these kinds of meetings can be incredibly boring, especially for someone who has no real interest in all this.

Czarina walked to the head of the table, darting glances at each man on the other side of the table. When she reached the stately chair once belonging to her father, she turned to the other side of the table and deliberately set her eyes on the other five men. She turned around and looked at the corporate logo of Bogatyr Industries on the wall behind her.

Aleksandr Gerasimov helped your father design that logo, Sergei said. He was always very proud of that.

So I’ve been told, Czarina replied. She sat down in the chair, and the ten men in the room did the same.

Sergei folded his hands. Let’s get right down to business. I know how much you love your current lifestyle, Czarina. And who wouldn’t? You travel around the world sightseeing, doing your little ‘treasure hunts’. I actually envy you. I’m not sure I’ll ever understand why Vlad left his controlling share of Bogatyr Industries to you, when you’ve never shown an interest in it.

Perhaps he had hoped I would, my poor father, Czarina replied, silently amused that no one, not even her uncle, had ever realized just how much she had paid attention to her father’s business growing up.

I suppose, but we cannot force our children to be copies of ourselves. He could have simply left you a large sum of money if he wanted you to be taken care of after his passing, but we’re getting off track. The point is that this life clearly is not for you. The board and I are willing to buy out your father’s share, and at a generous rate, as well. We’ll handle your father’s company, his legacy, and you’ll never have to worry about this big, boring business again.

Sergei took a sealed envelope from his jacket pocket and slid it across the table to Czarina. I think you’ll like this figure.

Czarina opened the envelope, withdrew the expensive-looking paper and read the short paragraph there. Condolences, a brief explanation of her father’s controlling share, then a ruble sign with a one followed by several zeroes. I like this figure a lot, she thought. From what she knew of the company’s finances and projections, this was more than fair. She could live the rest of her life in a luxury hotel, and still be obscenely wealthy. Czarina set the paper down and looked up at the men around her, each one wearing a phony, expectant smile.

These vultures in suits, Czarina thought. They had probably been popping champagne in this very room on the day of her father’s death. They hated how he’d kept a controlling share till the day he died, well past the time his doctors suggested he retire. They hated him, and that hatred now fell on Czarina, an attractive and strong-willed woman, the daughter of Vlad Barinov, and, worst of all, the new owner of a controlling share of Bogatyr Industries.

Yes, they hated everything about her, and they thought that faux sympathies, and a pile of cash, would be enough to get rid of her.

I’ll not give them the satisfaction.

I want to thank you all so much for this offer, Czarina said, smiling sweetly as she stood up again.

Well, we wanted to make sure that Vlad’s little girl would be taken care of, said one of the men. He made a condescending gesture towards Czarina, like patting a child on the head.

Czarina narrowed her eyes at him, and smiled. Thank you, Joseph. She walked towards the door, set her hand on the handle, and paused. And I’ll see you all here at nine o’clock, next Monday.

The men flinched in their seats as if they’d been pricked with a needle.

Czarina, you seem to be confused, Sergei said, you don’t have to come to any more meetings. We’ll wire the money straight to your account for you. You can go right back to living your life.

No, Uncle. You’re the one who is confused. It’s plain on your face. I do not accept your offer of a buy-out. I intend to run this business, and that is why I expect a full report from each of you Monday morning.

Run this business? Now look here, young lady, you don’t know the first–

"You will never refer to me as ‘young lady’ ever again, Sergei, Czarina interrupted. From now on it’s ‘yes, ma’am’ or ‘no, ma’am’ when addressing me. I’m your boss now, and you’d do well to remember that."

Each man rose from his seat and began speaking at once. Sergei and a couple of others tried maintaining the façade of kindness and empathy, but the others now made their loyalties clear as they lambasted Czarina. Joseph seemed particularly outraged, stabbing an accusatory finger at Czarina while threatening her with a laundry list of litigation.

Czarina relished this anger, the kind of anger one feels when something precious to them is taken away and out of reach. She knew that anger well, and though she hated feeling it herself, Czarina loved inflicting it on others.

Silence! she barked, her voice cutting through the cacophony.

Monday. Nine o’clock, Czarina repeated as the room fell silent. She opened the door and left.

Is everything okay? a worried Anastasia asked as Czarina walked past her desk.

Everything is great, Czarina replied. By the way, I’m your boss now and you answer to me alone.

Oh. Yes, ma’am.

You were my father’s personal assistant. Tell me, do you know this business well?

I’m sorry, do you mean like the history of this place?

No. I mean numbers, transactions, clients. Do you know the business well?

Anastasia hesitated. I’ve been here for seven years, and I’ve done a lot of things for the board that’s probably above my pay grade. I even closed a few smaller deals they thought themselves too important for. I think I’ve picked up a good deal of business experience.

And how often do those men in there harass you? Czarina asked.

Oh, never.

Czarina lifted one eyebrow.

Anastasia licked her lips and whispered, Frequently.

Not anymore. You’re a board member now. Please inform Joseph he’s been retired, then get right to work on hiring a new assistant.

What? But Ms. Barinov... I don’t–but I don’t know... Ms. Barinov! Anastasia stuttered, but Czarina walked away without another word.

Chapter 1 – The Ink of the Scholar

Ismet carefully unrolled yet another small, dusty scroll from the day’s findings. Nearly two thousand years old, the dried parchment required no less than an expert’s touch, and that was why Ismet had been hired for this excavation. He didn’t do any actual excavation work; that was for those peasants out there. Stupid, uninspired peons who reveled in filth and dirt.

Ismet himself was a scholar, a learned man. One of him was worth twenty of those glorified gravediggers. He had been hired for linguistic work, and that would only take place in his comfortable, air-conditioned tent.

While excitement around the camp had peaked days ago, the euphoria of discovery was just now touching Ismet as he diligently studied and translated each of the dozens of scrolls delivered to him. Work this extensive would take days to finish, but that was perfectly fine with him.

Hebrew characters revealed themselves to Ismet as he began to read the scroll in his hands. Thus far, each scroll had been written in Hebrew, a slight disappointment for Ismet. His greatest hope and dream was to find a long lost work of The Prophet Mohammed and to reveal it to the world. Inshallah, one day this dream would come true, and he’d finally be recognized as one of the great scholars of Islam. On that day, his peers would finally take him seriously. His unpublished studies, now languishing on shelves at home, would be required reading for Muslim students around the world. The name ‘Ismet’ would be whispered reverentially in every mosque from Mecca to...

To...

Ismet paused his daydreaming, reread the line he was looking at, then read it again.

The sloppy penmanship made the process slow, but Ismet was sure his translation was correct. The only question then was whether he could believe the text.

The wealth of Sulaimān, Ismet muttered. Every Muslim, every Christian and Jew, even the atheists, they all knew at least two stories about Sulaimān. First, how he discovered the true mother of a child by threatening to have the child cut in half. Second, the legend of his vast wealth.

And if the message in this scroll was true, then Ismet held the only known clue in the world that could reveal the location of this long-lost wealth. Mountains of gold, jewels...

...and the Ark of the Covenant.

Ismet set the scroll down as his hands began to sweat. He wiped his palms against his shirt and took three deep breaths to calm himself. This was no ayah from The Prophet, but it could still lead to a major discovery. If he reported this to the excavation crew, Ismet had no doubt that they would claim all credit themselves for the discovery.

A monkey could have dug this out of the ground, but those oafs would convince themselves that they deserve a special reward for this, and not the only man here who can actually read it.

He could sneak the scroll out of the camp and reveal it to some influential mullahs that he knew. But they were already so jealous of him. That was why his studies had not been published, after all. If he came to them with this scroll, they would simply steal it for themselves. Pursue the treasure himself? No, that would not do. He would need help, and Ismet would trust no one, not even his own mother, with a secret of this magnitude.

I suppose there’s always... him, Ismet thought with no small measure of disgust. He hated Mohammed, that serpent who had lied and cheated his way into the upper echelons of society. That was where Ismet belonged, not that crippled jackal. And the worst part of it was how he always threw his wealth in Ismet’s face, just to insult him. One day, Ismet would be rich and powerful enough to destroy Mohammed and his social standing.

Sadly, it would not be this day. Ismet was still the kicked dog, a station he would have to endure for a little while longer. So he would sell the scroll to Mohammed, let him have one of his teams go off on this chase, but he would not let Mohammed lowball him on this one. Not like last time.

Ismet carefully rolled the scroll back together and slid it into a plastic sleeve. He retrieved from his luggage a small, plastic tube he used to hold his toothbrush. He tossed the toothbrush aside and replaced it with the scroll, before putting the tube back into his luggage. Ismet then returned to his desk and grabbed the next scroll on his pile, though his work slowed down considerably as he daydreamed.

Ismet imagined the phone call he’d soon be placing: ‘Hello, Mohammed. I have something very special for you...That’s right, the Ark of the Covenant. How much? One hundred thousand dollars, American. Is that so? I suppose I’ll just have to find another buyer then. Uh-huh, that’s what I thought. Sure, you can still buy it... but I’m afraid the price just doubled. I don’t care what you think.’

He grinned.

‘Have the money wired to me by tomorrow,’ he would add, ‘or you’ll lose your deal.’

Chapter 2 – On the Road Again

Shooter, ready?

Ethan nodded his head. The man standing behind him clicked a buzzer and Ethan immediately raised his Smith & Wesson rifle. He fired at three clay pigeons fifty yards away to his left, then began walking forward as he turned to his right and fired at three more targets.

He, Mei, and Frankie were taking part in a three-gun shooting competition on a huge outdoor rifle range. Ethan was the last one to go. Of the three of them, Mei had the highest score thus far, though the members of some professional shooting team were currently winning the competition.

After breezing through the rifle portion, Ethan jogged up to a big blue barrel containing a shotgun. He put his rifle on ‘safe’, placed it muzzle first into the barrel and retrieved the shotgun: a 12-gauge Mossberg. This was where Mei had missed a few targets and lost some time, so Ethan was determined not to miss a single target.

His first shot went wide left.

Damn it, Ethan. Don’t jinx yourself.

Ethan pumped the shotgun and fired again, striking the target true. He did not miss another shot on this stage of the competition, and soon deposited his shotgun into yet another blue barrel.

Now bring it home, Ethan thought as he drew his M9 Beretta pistol. A bit old-fashioned, but Ethan loved it for shooting competitions. Accurate, smooth, and gorgeous.

Ethan shattered eight clay pigeons as he walked down the trail, not even stopping to aim as some had. At the next stage, he had to take a knee behind an obstacle and fire at yet more targets. He dropped the first two, reloaded his Beretta, and continued firing.

Finally, Ethan destroyed his last target, and the man behind him called, Time! Weapon on safe! He glanced at the buzzer in his hand that was keeping time, then showed it to Ethan. The two of them walked back to the start of the range, where the rest of the competitors and some spectators waited.

I’ll save y’all the suspense of declaring a winner, the range officer declared. Ethan here just set a new course record!

Some cheering followed the announcement, as well as groans from a few other competitors. The team that wore matching shirts, and had the fanciest weapons and attachments that money could buy, sounded particularly aggrieved. It would seem they did not expect to lose to a scruffy-looking nobody with the most basic armament imaginable.

Nevertheless, Ethan basked in the applause, beaming with pride as he searched the crowd for Frankie and Mei. He found them off to the side. Frankie was booing, offering two thumbs down. Mei clapped, but with a look on her face that said You’re never gonna let us forget about this. Ethan winked once at her, and she rolled her eyes.

The owner of the rifle range stepped forward from the crowd, a small trophy in hand which she presented to Ethan. Congratulations, son, the elderly woman said. That was some incredible shooting.

Thank you, ma’am, Ethan replied. He grasped the trophy in both hands and hoisted it above his head like it was the Stanley Cup, sending a wave of laughter and yet more applause through the crowd. He shook the woman’s hand, thanked her one more time, then walked towards Frankie and Mei.

I’m gonna need a proper trophy case for this beauty, Ethan said, still grinning. Imagine this: you open the front door of my house and right there, in the living room, is this magnificent trophy on a gold pedestal.

You’re insufferable, Mei said.

It’s not fair, you shouldn’t get to pick your own guns, Frankie said. Next time, you have to use the guns that I pick for you.

Are you kidding? The way you shoot I could beat you with a musket.

My pistol jammed, that’s why my time stunk.

Your excuses stink too.

Hate you, man.

Love you too, brother.

The three of them headed for the parking lot, stopping frequently as some folks wanted to congratulate Ethan. He thanked these people, all the while making deliberate eye contact with the professional shooting team. One of their members gave a half-hearted nod, but muttered something to his teammates: something about blind luck and how Ethan’s Beretta ‘doesn’t even have a red dot’. Ethan smirked and kept walking.

So where are we going for lunch? Mei asked as they returned to Ethan’s car, a grey Ford Bronco.

Ethan popped open the trunk so everyone could put their weapons away. I don’t care. Anywhere is fine with me.

Didn’t we pass a Tilted Kilt on the way? Frankie asked. Haven’t been there in a while.

No way, Mei said. If you just want to see some boobs, go to a strip club. And do it without me.

Hey, their food is good too, you know. It’s not just about the girls.

Yeah, I’m sure.

How ‘bout Buffalo Wild Wings? Ethan offered.

I’m down, Frankie said.

Mei nodded. Definitely. Let’s do that.

Before they could eat, they had to stop at Ethan’s house to put away their weapons. Ethan unlocked his front door and held it open for Mei. She went straight to the kitchen to deactivate Ethan’s ADT security system, punching in the code she knew by heart from her frequent visits and sleepovers.

Thank you, Ethan called from upstairs.

Don’t mention it, Mei replied. She