The Moses Riddle (Thomas McAllister 'Treasure Hunter' Adventure Book 1) (18 page)

During the time Ann was gone Thomas had been very busy. It had helped take his mind off her. But, frequently, her face would puncture his thoughts and he would have to push her from his mind. Not only was there the guilt from not trusting her, but he also missed her intensely. More than he had ever missed anyone before. He dreamt of her every night. He smelled her hair, heard her voice, felt her softness.

He would agree to a trade if it would give him the chance to get Ann back. At least that’s what he would tell them for the time being. Stalling a little would give him time, to devise a plan both to get Ann and hold onto the Commandments. Maybe he’d give them another fake.

Tonight Thomas was not in the hammock. He was at the table in Arturo’s kitchen. Arturo was next to him. The rest of the family was in bed.
“Here we are, Arturo. This is the Yahoo, Biblical Archeology Chat Room. Wait until you see all the lonely souls chatting in here tonight.” Thomas logged in and scrolled through the list of participants.
“Our man isn’t here yet. Watch for God to enter. I’ll try to draw them out.”

Moses 10:01 p.m.
Anyone from Egypt here?
Blackjack 10:01 p.m.
I’m here, Moses. How you doin tonight, brother?

Moses 10:02 p.m.
I’m fine tonight, Blackjack. How’re you?
Blackjack 10:03 p.m.
Just arguing with a friend right now. Hey, how old are you and where you from?

“Here we go, Arturo! Our man has entered the room. See this entry?” Thomas pointed to the message at the top of the screen.
GOD has entered the room.
“I’ll wait for him to make the first move. Don’t want to appear too eager.”

Private Message
Blackjack 10:05 p.m.
So, Moses, do you go both ways? Want to get it on, brother?
GOD 10:06 p.m.
Moses, are you there?
Moses 10:06 p.m.
No, but thanks for asking, Blackjack. I’ve gotta go, God is here. GOD, see you in the same room we used last night.

Private Room Ruse
Moses 10:07 p.m.
Yes, I’m here. Have you reconsidered?
GOD 10:08 p.m.
OK, we do it your way. So how do you want it to happen?
Moses 10:08 p.m.
Next Friday at one o’clock in the afternoon, I will be in a room in a building in Manhattan. I will only tell you the address of the building one hour before you are to bring Ann there. Once you have brought her, I will call you and tell you where the Ark is. You’ll need to have a helicopter, with a 100-mile range, standing by at Mexico City Airport. You will call the chopper; they will need to verify that it’s the real thing. On board the chopper you’ll need a 1000-pound winch, a trained biblical scholar, an archeologist, a bible, and two scuba divers with enough air for an hour at fifty feet. Make sure the archeologist has “instant” carbon dating technology. It’s new, but you can get it.

GOD 10:11 p.m.
You’ve got it under water?
Moses 10:12 p.m.
Yes. Wax sealed. Safe and dry.
GOD 10:12 p.m.
I’d like our man to stay in the room with you two, until we have word that we’ve got the real thing.

Moses 10:13 p.m.
That’s acceptable. You’ll get the real thing. You have my word. Taped to the top of the crate the Ark is in will be a small black case. Inside is a small piece of wood that I shaved off the Ark. Use it for dating the Ark. It’s the piece that I used.

GOD 10:14 p.m.
If you lead us to another fake, I’ll have you shot and dumped in the East River. Don’t think I can’t.

Moses 10:15 p.m.
I didn’t lead you to the first fake, you presumptuous asshole! You followed me! You bring me the real thing, you get the real thing.

Moses 10:18 p.m.
If I see any sign that you aren’t going to let her stay with me I’ll give you the wrong location. One that is booby trapped. Once your team verifies authenticity, she and I walk. Clear?

GOD 10:20 p.m.
Roger. All we want is the box. Not Ann, despite her splendid qualities. You said a room in Manhattan and we’ll have an hour to get her there. What part of the city should we have her in? I want her there in time. You know how midday Manhattan traffic can be. Just get me close, Professor.

Moses 10:21 p.m.
At 11:00 EST, have her near PJ Clark’s. Know where that is?
GOD 10:22 p.m.
Best hamburgers in midtown.
Moses 10:23 p.m.
Yeah, yeah, and Bass Ale, on tap.
GOD 10:24 p.m.
We might get along, in other circumstances, Professor.
Moses 10:25 p.m.
Doubtful.
GOD 10:26 p.m.
So where are you right now anyway? We tried to trace you last time, couldn’t of course. You still down south? We haven’t seen you come across the border.

Moses 10:27 p.m.
I’ll call you at noon next Friday.
Moses logged off.

Arturo and Thomas had talked about the future before he left. They had become close friends during the past few months. They had agreed once this was all over with they would document their find in the major academic journals. At least then, people would know the truth about the Ark and the connections between the ancient Egyptian and Olmec cultures. It would be the next Roswell, except with factual data, and believable witnesses.

Thomas’s plan, which he began to finalize on the drive from Texas to Manhattan, was to trade the Commandments for Ann, then return to Mexico to properly document the site where they’d found the Ark. The extraction had happened so fast, he’d hadn’t been able to do further exploration. Ann had said she thought she saw something behind the Ark, and Thomas felt there could be other important artifacts in the same chamber as the Ark or in adjoining chambers.

Though he hadn’t had too much time to dwell on it, this find would have a huge impact on the world’s understanding of history and the way cultures had evolved. He could show conclusively that not only was there contact between Eastern and Western cultures, but there was contact of the most significant kind. Even a deep relationship.

Archeologists had never come up with satisfactory explanations for the Olmec glyphs dating to pre 3000 BC depicting Euro-people with facial hair. Or the statues with Negroid features. Or the advanced agricultural and astronomical state. This will move them, Thomas thought, as he sped over Route 349 in his rental car. Yes. This will move them.

The only problem was that he was going to lose his biggest piece of evidence. Frustrated at the coming need to prove he had possessed something that was currently in his possession, he plotted ways to keep the Ark and still get Ann back. He couldn’t risk trying to give them a fake again. There had to be a another way.

When Thomas reached Odessa he turned east and headed for Abilene. His trip would take him through Ft. Worth and Dallas, through Little Rock, Arkansas, then up to Lexington. He would turn north at Lexington, taking I-75, in order to steer clear of D.C. Then he would slice eastward again on I-70, to Philadelphia, then right into New York, where he would reclaim Ann.

He stopped at a Sonic in Odessa and had a double cheeseburger, fries and a shake. He liked not having to get out of the car. He thought of Ann as he ate. They would move her to Manhattan soon. He wanted to get there quickly, if only to be closer to her.

He didn’t like to use the overused, ill defined phrase “soul mate” but he couldn’t think of a better way to describe how he felt about her. He’d never felt this way about a woman before. Their common interests were strong and did not dissolve as the demands of everyday life together increased. The strong bond of archeology and his strong physical attraction ran parallel to this deeper, core emotional tie. It all seemed perfect. Predestined. Written in the books of their lives.

God, he missed her! Hair smelling of citrus. Puffy, pouty lips. Deep laugh, which once unleashed could go on and on. He missed discussing archeology with her. She was a very talented Mayanologist and he had come to respect the way her mind worked . . . the way she walked around a problem or question. She had the potential to be one of the best in what was a young field of study. His chest tightened.

Odessa was Texas’ version of any-town USA, and he moved through it quickly, cruising steadily across the stark west Texas landscape on his way to Ft.Worth/Dallas, glad the car had air conditioning.

His mind didn’t stop reviewing his plan. He needed to get in touch with two people. A professor and friend at Arizona State, John Randle, and a close college buddy, Drew Montgomery, who lived in New York and traded on Wall Street.

He planned to call John to get his credit card number, in order to anonymously book a hotel reservation in Manhattan. He and John were good enough friends that John would give it to him, no questions asked.

He needed to call Drew for help with finding a safe place for the exchange, and because he needed money. He had been paying cash for everything. Plane tickets to Egypt and Mexico, hotels in Egypt, Arturo’s expenses in Mexico, and Ann’s in Phoenix at the Camelback. He had also paid cash for all the expensive equipment he’d needed for the extraction, as well as for the custom made fake Ark. He was running low, at a crucial time.

So he drove on and on. Reviewing his plan, using an iterative process that had always worked for him. He broke the plan into piece parts, tactics, then examined each one, each piece, to see if it held up. Turning it over in his mind, looking at it from different directions. Assessing how it could be improved, strengthened, shortened, or streamlined. Once he understood the weaknesses, the risks, he could begin to build contingencies. Alternate plans that would allow him to succeed despite unforeseen obstacles. One of his concerns was that the government had already bugged his friends’ phones. He didn’t know who they’d pick. Close friends? People in certain geographies? He felt this time they would spread the net even wider.

His central idea was to get to Manhattan, stay in an out-of-the-way hotel under an assumed name, and prepare for the trade. If this didn’t work, he had a backup plan, but he didn’t want to use it.

That evening, Thomas spent the night outside of Dallas in a Marriott Courtyard. He liked Courtyards because they were set up for business people. He could have driven hours longer, but he wanted to sit at a desk and outline his plan.

He checked in, using cash and a fake name, ordered a Domino’s pizza, and called John Randle on his cell phone. He knew John would be home. John was always home. Unlike many of his peers at the university, who might be anywhere at anytime, John did not travel. He published good books through the use of secondary research. Thomas liked handson primary research, but John had told him many times, sometimes in heated discussions, that rediscovering writings that had been lost for hundreds of years or drawing fresh conclusions was just as valuable as actually making a find. Regardless, John was living the American dream. A wife, two kids, solid job, nice house, and predictable future, right down to having 28 percent income tax built into his retirement plan.

John Randle answered on the first ring. Thomas intentionally did not give his name. He knew John would recognize his voice. “Johnny, how’s my favorite home-body?”

Where are you, buddy?”
“Hey, John. You know that nice cellular phone your wife gave you
for your last birthday?”
“Yeah, what about it?”
“Do me a favor and turn it on. Okay?”
“Give me five minutes.”
“Talk to you in five.”
John answered in half a ring. “What the hell are you up to, buddy?
The FBI has been at the university, interviewing all of us. They’re trying
to find you.”
“You’re kidding. I didn’t know how bad they wanted me. I guess it’s
bad.”
“Bad? Oh, it’s bad! They’ve talked to
everyone
. They even came here,
when I was in class, and talked to Sue. They told her that if I was hiding
you, I could get in big trouble. Jail even. Harboring, they called it. For
a while they were on campus every day, watching.”
“This is amazing. Are they hiding or out in the open?” “Hiding?” John blurted. “Thomas, they subpoenaed all the documents in your office. They took it
all
. There’s police tape across your
door! I thought you’d at least know that much!”
“They’ve been in my office? They’ve taken my files?” “They had a warrant. Washington was present. It was all legal. They
said it was part of the discovery process or something. What the
hell
are
you involved in?”
Thomas was thinking, trying to remember if he had any documents
relating to the Ark in his office. Had he ever taken anything there? He
hadn’t. He was sure of it. He hadn’t been back since he’d gotten fired.
None of it mattered now anyway.
“Thomas? You there, buddy?”
“Yes, here. What did you ask?”
“I asked, what are you involved in? People are starting to talk. You
know. Make things up.”
It’s always more interesting to make things up, to fill in gaps, than
to know the truth, Thomas thought. The guessing game would keep the
social scene busy for weeks. “I can’t say, John, but it’s big. It’s nothing
criminal. Listen, I was going to ask you for a favor, but I’m not sure that
I should, after hearing all of this. I don’t want to get you in trouble . . .
and I especially don’t want them to know where I am yet. The whole
University is too hot . . . you’re too hot.”
“Hold on a minute, Tom, Sue is saying something. What honey? Sue
says . . .
what?
Thomas, they’re in the
driveway
.”
“
Who’s
there, John?
The FBI guys
?”
“Yes, listen . . . they’re knocking on the door. Sue says it’s the same
car that was here the other day. A Taurus. They . . . hey just a second
there—” Thomas could hear men’s voices and footsteps on John’s tile
entryway floor.
“John, they must’ve been listening when I called you on the land line
number! I’ve gotta go, buddy! Be honest with them, don’t try to be a
hero. Okay?”
“Tell them I’m coming, Sue! Sure, Tom, no problem. You be careful!” Thomas hit the end button on his cell phone. He was shocked. Even
though he’d agreed to make the trade, they were still after him. Instead of laying low and waiting for him in Manhattan, they were actively pursuing him. Something about that didn’t add up. Why not wait for him? They must really want me, he thought. They must be more pissed off about the fake than I thought. If they found him, they’d probably beat him or drug him to get the location of the Ark. Obviously the Cowboy was willing to go to any extreme to ensure that he wasn’t
outsmarted again.
This meant trouble. He’d have to continue using cash for everything,
which was both suspicious and difficult. He found the phone book,
looked at the map on the inside page, then looked up Western Union. He
located one near his hotel, then called Drew Montgomery. He didn’t get Drew the first time, so he waited an hour and tried
again.
Drew answered this time.
“Drew, it’s Thomas.”
“Hey, what’s up, Pal? How’s it going?”
“Drew, has anyone called you about me . . . asking questions?” “What do you mean,
questions
? Where are you, Tommy? You sound
a little tense.”
“Listen up, Drew. I need your help. Do you have a cell phone?” “Yes.” Drew’s voice grew serious. He gave the number to Thomas. “I’ll call you back.” Thomas hung up as Drew was asking why the
switch of phones.
After calling him back, Drew immediately asked. “Why the switch?
Are you in trouble?”
“In a way. Most of my friends’ phones are bugged. I called someone
I’d worked with at Arizona State at home a few minutes ago and there
were people at his door within five minutes. I think cell phones are okay,
but I’m not even sure about that. Can people trace cell phone calls these
days?”
“I don’t think so. Too many cell towers. Well, I did see a movie
recently where they tried. Who’s after you?”
“I’ve found something really big and the government wants it. Bad.” “What did you find? I didn’t think you’d been on any big digs lately.” “I can’t say right now, Drew.”
“Come on, it’s me, who would I tell?”
“I’ll tell you soon. For now, trust me. It’s big. So big that I need some
help from you.”
“Can I get in trouble from it? I mean, I’ll do whatever you need. I’d
just like to know if it’s legal first.”
“It’s legal. I’m not a fugitive or criminal. I need a loan and I need you
to set something up for me.”
“The loan’s no problem. What do you need set up?”
“First, let’s talk about the money. I need you to send about $20,000
to a Western Union outlet in Dallas, Texas. Can you do that?” “Within an hour.”
“Don’t send it in your name. I’ll be in Manhattan soon and once
they figure out you’re a friend of mine, they’ll trace all your financial
activities. Have Tracey do it. Are you still seeing her?”
Drew’s voice lowered to a whisper. “No, I’m not seeing her anymore,
but I do have someone else who can do it.”
“She’s there now?”
“Yes.”
“Okay . . . that’s good. Send it as soon as you can.” Thomas gave him
the address of the Western Union by the hotel. Then he explained the other
favor he needed. “I need a private room in a public building, like a hotel
room, but more public. In a hotel, the government could shut off a whole
floor and make the place a whole lot less public than it’s supposed to be.
Know what I mean?”
“How big does the room need to be?”
“Big enough for three or four people to have a meeting. It would be
nice if there were two doors, one on either side of the room.” “I don’t even need to think about this. I’ve got the perfect place.” “Where?”
“My new club. I’d been on the waiting list for the Harvard Club for
five years. Six months ago I got in. Members and guests can use conference rooms. Most have two doors, one for members and another for the help to come through. Sound like it would work?”
“Sounds perfect, Drew. Can you book one for me? I’d need it for two hours on Friday. It needs to have a phone.”
“What time on Friday?”
“From about twelve thirty to three o’clock.”
“I’m sure I can get one then.”
“Two things, Drew, and write all this down, okay? First, you cannot be there. Tell the front desk, or whatever they have there, to reserve it in my name and that I’ll have two or three guests. Secondly, the fewer calls and contact between us the better. Sorry to be so secretive. I’ll explain everything later. I’ll call you tomorrow sometime, to confirm the room. Okay?”
“I understand. Consider it all taken care of. Sounds serious, Tom. Be careful and let me know if you need any more help. I’ve gotten to know quite a few people around this town, not all Ivy League types either, if you know what I mean.”
“Thanks, Drew. What happened to Tracey?” Thomas always made a point to remember the name of Drew’s last girlfriend, as a joke, because the names changed so frequently.
He lowered his voice again, “Uh, I’ll tell you when I see you. I’ve met someone new.”
Thomas smiled. “Name?”
“Jennifer. Not the same Jennifer as last time though.” “Good. Okay, do you have all the information you need?” “Yes. I’m going to get this set up. Harvard Club, Friday, conference room with two doors and a phone, from twelve to two. Oh, yeah, and twenty-thousand dollars. Need more?”
“No, that’s enough for now, thanks. I’m good for it. I’ll get it back to you in a few weeks or so. You’ll still have enough to trade with tomorrow, won’t you?”
“Ha! Take care, pal.”
Thomas and Drew had become close in college. Thomas had always preferred to know a few people deeply, rather than a lot of people in a shallow sort of way. He and his group of five friends had named themselves The Inner Circle. It was a diverse group and in an odd way, Thomas identified differently with each member. Both he and Drew had fathers who had left home. They had confided in each other, and it had led to a
close friendship.
Since college, Drew had become a successful trader on Wall Street.
He had dated scores of women and was apparently still cycling through
them. Thomas liked Drew, and appreciated his thirst for life. He just
wasn’t sure when Drew had last read a book.