Deity (4 page)

Peet
thought a moment. “He called me in September to wish me a happy birthday but
other than that, no.”

“You
must not be a very close family.”

Peet
shrugged. “Like she said, I’m the son-in-law. My wife has passed on.”

“I’m
sorry to hear that—”

“Your
careers don’t bring you and Dr. Friedman together?” Agent Miles cut in rather
accusingly. The arrogant glint in his eye reminded Peet of his freshman and
sophomore students, those who arrived on campus for the carnival of university
life. Those who hadn’t been around long enough to take academic business
seriously.

That
was Peet’s assessment of Agent Miles, a trim baby-faced rookie anxious for
action. Nevertheless, he shrugged, granting Miles’ point. “John’s specialty is
Mesamerican archaeoastronomy while my work focuses on Southwestern anthropology.”

“But
you’ve both worked at the University
of Utah.”

“John
retired shortly after I reached tenure.”

Martha
busied herself collecting the agents’ teacups, but Peet could tell she was
keenly tuned into the conversation.

Agent
Kamenski seized the conversation again. “But then you dug up this artifact.”

He
handed over a copy of Modern Archaeology. Peet didn’t need to look at the
magazine to know what artifact the agent was referring to. There, on the glossy
front cover of the May edition was a picture of the brilliant jade and
turquoise Effigy of Quetzalcoatl—the most magnificent replica of ancient Mexico’s famed
feathered serpent to have ever been found. But if it wasn’t enough that
discovery of the Effigy made national headlines, its theft and Peet’s
involvement with its fortunate recovery six months ago went global.

“The
gap between you two must have closed considerably thanks to that little piece
of treasure,” Agent Miles prodded.

Peet
hesitated, annoyed by Agent Miles’ choice of words. He didn’t consider the
football-sized block of jade little by any means, and although one couldn’t
quite put a price on the Effigy’s value, to call it a piece of treasure seemed
to reduce Peet’s work to the activities of art and antiquities collectors.

“Are
the two of you working together now?” Agent Kamenski pressed.

Feeling
suddenly very warm around the collar, Peet eased out of his coat. “Why do you
ask?”

“They
think John stole the Effigy,” Martha said as she retrieved his coat and hung it
beside two long coats already stored away in the closet. It seemed the two FBI
agents had been there a while.

Peet
lowered himself onto the arm of the nearby recliner. His feet were sweltering
in his boots. “John didn’t steal the Effigy. In fact he was in Mexico
helping us get it back after it was stolen. It was in all the papers.”

“We’re
not here for the theft in June,” Agent Kamenski interrupted. “Your Effigy was
stolen again.
This time from the museum in Mexico City.”

Peet
was stunned. Mexico’s
National Museum of Anthropology displayed some of the rarest and most treasured
collections from the new world. Something with such cultural significance as
the Effigy demanded public attention but it also required tight,
state-of-the-art security against unscrupulous black market collectors. That
was why that particular museum was chosen to hold the Effigy. Another attempt
to steal it would be virtually impossible.

Or
so Peet thought.

“How
could anyone possibly—”

“It
was an inside job,” Agent Kamenski explained. “Quite frankly, Dr. Friedman tops
the suspect list.”

Peet
shook his head. John had returned to Mexico
City to assist the museum with its grand opening of
the Effigy’s display. The retired professor even offered to stay a while to educate
local archaeologists with details of its discovery in Utah and he was all too eager to share his
theory about Mesoamerican-Southwest trade relations.

John
enjoyed all the attention.

“John
couldn’t have taken it,” Peet said. “He’s a dedicated researcher. He loves his
work.”

“Maybe
he loves it a little too much,” offered Agent Kamenski. “Maybe this time he
decided to keep a souvenir for himself.”

“Or
maybe turn a buck off it,” Agent Miles added.

“No,”
Peet insisted. “I know John. He spent a lifetime researching, promoting and
educating archaeology. Stealing artifacts goes against everything he’s ever
lived for.”

“Perhaps
those years of separation have distorted your knowledge of your father-in-law,”
Agent Kamenski suggested.

“That’s
my husband you’re talking about, Agent...Whatever-ski,” Martha stammered
nervously. “What evidence do you have to make these allegations?”

“It’s
quite simple, Mrs. Friedman. They’ve caught your husband on tape.”

Martha
slumped into the leather recliner behind her. “There must be some
misunderstanding,” she said, devastated.

“We
were contacted by the Agency of Federal Investigations in Mexico City,” the agent explained. “They’ve
shared the surveillance tapes from the museum.”

“And
the museum’s security records show Dr. Friedman’s access codes had been used at
the time of the theft,” Agent Miles added. “Not to mention he hasn’t been back
to the museum since.”

“Quite
frankly, your husband is their only suspect. Nobody has been able to contact
him and the AFI are looking for him.”

Peet
straightened in his chair. “So they contacted you thinking he might bring the
Effigy back to the states,” he guessed.

“Exactly.”

Martha
began to rub her temples. Peet felt as much a stranger to her as the FBI
agents, but there was an expectation in her eyes when she looked at him. John
may have finally accepted their daughter’s unfortunate accident but Martha had
yet to be so moved and for ten years, the only person she had to blame was
Peet. He knew she wasn’t about to amend her feelings toward him now.

“There
must be a conspiracy,” she said. “Someone must have set John up. There’s no
other explanation.”

Agent
Kamenski turned to her, his eyes neither harsh nor sympathetic to the
situation. His voice held the tone of experience with little personality there
to muddle his message. “We won’t know for sure until we find him. When did you
last speak with him, Mrs. Friedman?”

Martha
wrung her hands nervously. “He called me Saturday. He said he was going to
assist a colleague with some field work this week.”

“Did
he say where he was going?”

“I
didn’t ask. I assume it has something to do with the Effigy so I imagine he’s
somewhere near Teotihuacan.”

“Where?”

“Teotihuacan,” Peet
interjected. “It’s an archaeological site just north of Mexico City. John believes the Effigy originated
there. I’m guessing that if John did in fact take the Effigy, he must have
needed it for some sort of research. Maybe he needed it for this field work
they’re doing.”

Peet
thought he heard Martha sigh with relief. Her glare had lost its edge. It was
as though she’d expected him to find a reasonable explanation. Perhaps that was
all she needed to stabilize her blood pressure.

After
a moment of pensive silence, it seemed to have satisfied the FBI agents as
well.

“Did
your husband mention when he was coming home?” Agent Kamenski asked as he
ambled toward the coat closet.

Watching
him retrieve the long coats, Martha was all too eager to respond. “He promised
to be home by Christmas. I expect him a few days before.”

The
agent handed his partner his coat and as they shrugged into them he said, “Very
well. Then I’ll expect a call from him when he returns.” He retrieved a card
from his pocket and handed it to Martha. “We don’t want to come knocking on
your door come Christmas morning.”

Martha
took the agent’s card and shut the door behind them as they left. When she
turned around, the reassurance Peet thought he’d given her had been replaced by
a fearful sheen in her eyes. “You have to go down there, Anthony.”

Peet
was taken by her abruptness.
“To Mexico?
John could be at any
number of sites around Mexico City,
and I’m just talking about the ones that are publically known. There might be
thousands of small, out of the way digs that he could be working in.”

“If
there’s anyone who can find them all, it’s you.”

Peet
shook his head. “You overestimate me, Martha.”

“Do
I? As I recall, my daughter thought pretty highly of your abilities.”

“There’s
a vast difference between searching for artifacts and searching for a person.”

“Unless you’re looking for a person searching
for artifacts.
You have to go. John could be in serious trouble. What if he took the Effigy
under duress?”

“All the more reason to let the authorities
find him.”

“Anthony,
please. That was the FBI looking for him.
The FBI
!”

“Martha,
you’re overreacting. I’m sure there’s a perfectly sound explanation to all of
this. I’m sure he’ll tell you all about it tonight when he calls.”

“That’s
just it,” Martha pressed, tears welling in her eyes. “He hasn’t called. And he
hasn’t returned my messages. He always returns my messages.”

Peet
sighed, running a hand through his hair.
“All right.
Let
me make a few phone calls first. I’ll contact the INAH. If John’s working on a
dig somewhere, they would know about it.”

Martha
bristled, her tears hardening to her face. “And if that doesn’t work, Anthony,
you will go down there. You will find John and clear up this whole mess. I
already lost my daughter to your exploits. I’m not about to lose my husband
over your Effigy.”

Mexico City

Peet
made no arrangements for his return flight when he left KC and her plane at Mexico City’s
non-commercial airstrip. He couldn’t exactly make plans until he knew more
about John’s situation, and who knew how long that would take.

“That’s
fine,” KC said, inspecting an oil drip beneath the left engine of her plane. “I’ll
be here when you need me. You have my cell?”

Peet
indicated that he did and twenty minutes later he was driving away in a rented
car. As he maneuvered into Mexico City,
he began to regret his decision to avoid a taxi. Salt Lake City had its traffic, but nothing
like this. Fortunately, the car had a built-in GPS.
His first
destination—the Museo Nacional de Antropología.

As
he left the car in the parking lot, he couldn’t help but recall the day he left
the museum six months ago. He never thought he’d be back so soon. In fact, he
hadn’t been gone long enough for Frederico de Gala Espanoza to forget his face.
The curator recognized him the moment Peet stepped through his office door,
fairly leaping across his gleaming desk to grip Peet’s hand. Frederico grinned
from ear to ear, with just a hint of some expensive cologne defining his
nearness.

“Please
excuse my surprise, Dr. Peet,” he said in his best English. “I imagined you to
be in the States.”

“I
was,” Peet admitted, releasing the curator’s smooth, manicured hand.
“Until the FBI started asking questions about John.”

Peet
struggled to withhold the concern from his voice. Turbulence hadn’t been the
only thing that troubled him on KC’s flight. Mexico’s Instituto Nacional de
Antropología e Historia, or INAH, had turned up nothing. There was no record of
John requesting to work at any site around Mexico City or the surrounding states. Peet
contacted a few of John’s closest colleagues, none of whom had been in contact
with him since he left to help with the museum’s Effigy display.

That’s
when Peet really began to worry.

The visit from the FBI agents lingered in the back of his
mind, and they were still with him there in Espanoza’s office. Admittedly, Peet
didn’t know much about criminal investigations, but something about the FBI’s
visit to Martha’s home didn’t add up. If they truly had evidence against John
wouldn’t they stake out the places he’d most likely turn up? Wouldn’t they keep
a low profile until they could make the bust? Surely they wouldn’t approach his
closest contacts for fear of tipping off their investigation. After all, what’s
to stop Peet or Martha from warning John that they were looking for him?

Or
is that exactly what they wanted them to do? Peet couldn’t help but wonder if
the FBI knew something they weren’t sharing.

“This
situation is most unfortunate,” Frederico said. “My plans, too, are
interrupted. I am to spend Christmas in Acapulco.
I was on my way there when my assistant called to tell me the Effigy of
Quetzalcoatl had been stolen.” The curator reached around Peet to close his
office door and then lifted a cordial hand to a plush leather chair in the
corner. “Please, sit down.”