The Moses Riddle (Thomas McAllister 'Treasure Hunter' Adventure Book 1) (21 page)

While they drove, Thomas dialed his dear old friend and favorite anthropology teacher, Dr. Taylor. Taylor, as he called him, had contributed greatly to Thomas’s decision to become an Egyptologist and had served as mentor throughout Thomas’s career.

The typical first impression of Taylor was that he was senile. After knowing him, it became apparent that he was an eccentric genius. He was always one level deeper and two steps ahead. His ability to be in front of normal thought patterns disconcerted most people. Thomas simply viewed it as what it was, ultra quick intelligence. If he opened his mind around Taylor, allowed his thoughts to flow freely, unencumbered, he could usually stay up with him.

Taylor had retired to live in Manhattan after making millions on corn futures. Now he served as primary consultant on Egyptian antiquities, to both Christi’s
and
Sotheby’s. Despite their being competitors, he was too good for both not to have access. So, like most eccentrics, he got paid to do what he enjoyed.

Taylor’s phone rang its usual fifteen times before he answered it. Taylor had no answering machine but he occasionally had a secretary in who answered the phone for him. When the secretary was not working, he felt that if someone really wanted to talk to him, they’d let it keep ringing.

“What happened to that cute girl you had answering your phone for you?”
“
Thomas!
Oh, my dear Thomas, I’m hearing such nasty things about you these days. Word is you’re on to something of great importance. She ran away with a girlfriend. They went West. I’m sure I’ll never see her again. Shame. Pretty girl, natural switchboard talent.”
“Taylor, I’m in town and I need a favor. A big one. I want to warn you up front: it’s an illegal one.”
“If it’s a favor for you, I’m in. Don’t think twice, Thomas.”
“I need to hold a business meeting at your house tonight. And I need to stay a few nights in your guest bedroom. My previous plans have been . . . jeopardized.”
“Sure, sure, of course, yes to all of it. What time?”
“Can I come over right now? As I said, I’m improvising.”
“It’ll be fun. I’m getting lonely in my old age.”
“This meeting tonight. There may be as many as six of us, could be several rough types.”
“I can be rough. I’ll leave if you want. Just make sure none of the rough types steal anything.”
Thomas smiled. “I really appreciate this, Taylor. I’ll see you any minute. We’re crossing Central Park.”
“I’ll tell the doorman to let you right up.”

Taylor was considerably shorter than Thomas. His gray hair was receding at the corners and he wore it straight back. He always looked as if he’d been facing a strong wind, like Charlie Watts. Somehow, it was the best possible look for him. He was wiry thin and slightly stooped, but his eyes glowed friendly-blue. For people he liked, that is.

Thomas literally fell through the entrance of Taylor’s apartment. “Thomas, you’re injured!” Taylor held him at arm’s length. “Unless they’re making Cincinnati Reds jackets that bleed. Where is it? Your arm? Here?”

“Yes, yes, it’s that arm. I need a doctor. I’m pretty sure I can get a doctor over here.”
“Jesus, you’re all sweaty, and shaking. Hurry, come into the next room and lie down. If you fall, I won’t be able to carry you.”
“I’ve been shot. I think it was a .38. Maybe nine millimeter.”
“Jesus, Mary, and Joseph! Sit, sit. What can I get you? Water? Brandy?”
Thomas sat down, trying to collect his thoughts, trying to stay calm. Seeing Taylor’s reaction reminded him how serious his situation was. It wasn’t the pain that bothered him the most. It was the thought of complications; major arteries cut, loss of blood, infection. “Do you have any orange juice?”
While Taylor was getting his drink, Thomas staggered to the bathroom. He gingerly removed his blazer and then tore off his shirt and tossed them in the bathtub. He ran water in the sink and grabbed a green towel to wet and clean the wound. Taylor burst in, saw the wound, and instantly turned and walked out. Seconds later, he returned with a first aid kit.
Thomas’s voice wavered. “Taylor, it’s much worse than I imagined. More than you or I can deal with.” Because of his time in the field, Thomas was accomplished at administering first aid for things like scrapes, mild concussions, snake bites, and scorpion stings, but he was out of his league with this gunshot wound. He laid a cold cloth over his shoulder and pulled out his cellular phone. As he dialed, a bright red circle formed in the middle of the cloth.
He had memorized two New York numbers, Taylor’s and Drew Montgomery’s. Drew had already loaned him $20,000. He felt relatively sure he could also provide what he needed now. He tried Drew at work and got lucky. Drew was not on the trading floor and was available to take calls. Accomplished traders like Drew only traded for two hours in the morning and two hours in the afternoon. In between they had lunch and socialized. Drew and guys he traded with had rented a conference room, with a pool table and wet bar, for their mid-afternoon breaks.
Thomas felt bad for interrupting Drew at work. But only for a minute. The guy was a multimillionaire.
“Drew Montgomery.”
“Drew, it’s Tommy. Sorry to bother you at work.”
“No problem. You almost missed me. Getting ready to go make a buck. What’s up? How’s your trip going?”
“Listen, Drew, is this a secure line?”
“Secure? It’s a land line, not a cellular, and it’s not a portable phone, if that’s what you mean. Why?”
“Forget it. Drew, can you get out of there early today? I wouldn’t ask, if it weren’t serious. I need your help.”
“Sure. This hasn’t been a spectacular trading day.”
“I’ll owe you big for this. Here’s what I need. Do you know any doctors? Like . . . ER types?”
“I know a trader who used to be a doctor. He wasn’t making enough to pay off his medical school loans. I don’t know him real well, but we’re friendly.”
“Can you get him to leave with you today?”
“I can ask. Someone hurt?”
“Yeah, me. It’s bad.” Thomas looked down and saw fresh blood seeping though the gauze bandages Taylor was trying to apply to the wound.
“I’ll ask him. If he can’t get away, I’ll call my guy. He’ll make a house call, if I pay him enough.”
“Good. The second favor I need is . . . well, I need a criminal. A professional thief and some people to help him.” Taylor shot him a worried look, but kept bandaging. “Do you know anyone like that? Even a friend of a friend.”
Drew chuckled. “I see what you mean about the secure line. I’ve been a trader in Manhattan for ten years. Of course I know thieves.”
“But do you know any
professionals.
Good ones, who know all the latest technical stuff?”
“I know what you mean. I’ve got someone in mind. I don’t know this guy personally, but I know someone who does. The guy did time. Do you mind if they’re ex-cons?”
“No. I prefer it. I won’t be asking them to fill out a job application. I need you to get your doctor friend and have him bring medical supplies. Whatever he needs for a serious gunshot wound to the shoulder. Get him over to Taylor’s apartment, in the Dakota, fast. The sooner the better.”
“Go ahead. I’m taking notes.”
“Good. But when you’re through, burn them! Get the thief, and anyone else he trusts to work with him and meet us at Taylor’s apartment. Come soon, especially the doctor!”
Drew said, “What else?”
“That’s all. Just stay as far away from this as you can. It’s not romantic, and it’s not going to be legal.” Thomas knew that if Drew saw this as an adventure, he’d never be able to keep him away.
“Will you be all right until I get there?”.
“Yeah, the bleeding has slowed down. Right, Taylor?”
“Whatever you say.”
“One more thing, Drew. If they ask, tell all of these people that I will pay them well.”
“Will do.” Drew replied.
“Oh, yeah, and one last thing,” Thomas added, “Let the doctor know that I’m not sure, but I think the bullet may still be in my shoulder. He may need some different tools for that.”
“Jesus man, what have you gotten yourself into?”

“Say good-bye to that Reds jacket, Thomas. At least you had the sense to drop it on the hardwood floor, and not one of my Persians.” Taylor picked the jacket up, careful not to touch the bloody part, and put it in the garbage.

Even with his pain and anger, Thomas couldn’t keep himself from marveling at Taylor’s artifact collection. It had always impressed him. Taylor had started collecting before many of the national treasure laws were enacted in foreign countries. He had so many artifacts he rotated them every three months. His apartment was like a museum. In fact, many museums around the world held artifacts on loan from his collection.

Thomas slumped in a leather chair. “I think I’m ready for a whiskey.” He normally didn’t drink whiskey, but he was starting to feel cold and hollow, and knew whiskey would feel warm when it hit his stomach.

“Yes, whiskey, Taylor. I think I’ve earned it. Not only have I been shot by the woman I love, but a few weeks ago I was fired from Arizona.”
“Any fool can see you’ve been shot, but you’re joking about losing your job, Thomas.”
“I wish I was joking. But, it’s true. Washington sacked me.”
“That’s really quite hard for me to believe. You were all they had going over there. Had you stolen something? Slept with his wife, maybe?”
“I was teaching unapproved material. Washington told me they wanted to teach me a lesson. Speaking of sleeping with someone, I’m seeing a girl named Ann. At least I was. Until she shot me. She’s the Mayanologist I wrote you about.”
Taylor brought the drinks. “My God, a Mayanologist! Does she practice Santerria?”
Thomas winced, as he reached for the drink. “That’s Haiti and you know it!”
“Bloody sacrifice, Thomas? Holding beating hearts up to the moon?”
“You’re closer than you think!”
“Tell me, has she figured out what that Mayan ball game that they used to play was all about?”
“You dirty old man! No! No one has ever figured out exactly what they used to do on all those ball courts. Can I talk now?”
Thomas took two sips of his whiskey. It created a tight warmth in his throat and he felt it flow down to his stomach.
“Proceed.”
“First of all, I’d be remiss if I didn’t tell you that fake Etruscan vase on the foyer table is abominable.”
Taylor registered shock. “How did you know?
I
barely knew it was fake!”
“You knew. You just didn’t want to admit it to yourself. Throw it out, or give it to one of your silly New York interior designers. My God, Taylor! Has our throw-away culture finally infiltrated your apartment?”
Taylor rose from his chair and took the vase into the kitchen. Thomas heard the thud as it hit the bottom of the trash can. He raised his voice. “I need to tell you what I’m up to. Listen, okay? No commentary.”
Taylor yelled back from the kitchen. “Okay, but you’re taking all the fun out of this visit.”
“I’ve found the Ark of the Covenant and the Ten Commandments. The
real
Ark of the Covenant. I held the tablets in my hands a few days ago.”
“Yeah, and the vase I just threw away was really the holy grail.”
“No, I’m serious, Taylor! The clue that led me to it was in Egypt. My good friend Martha Stevens helped me, you remember Martha, from the Amenophis find. The Ten Commandments are the reason they shot me. The FBI is looking for me right now. They may come here.”
Taylor looked in from the kitchen. “Are you serious?”
“Completely. I’ve got a bullet wound for Christ’s sake.”
Taylor came into the room and sat down across from Thomas. He was slowly shaking his head, digesting what he’d heard. In a low, inward voice he murmured, “I knew the Ark had to be somewhere and if anyone could find it, it would be you, Thomas. But I thought Moses broke those tablets.”
“Moses broke the
first
set. He made a second set later.”
“Really? Didn’t know that. My God, this is what dreams are made of. I’d trade everything I’ve ever discovered, or bought, to have a find like the one you’re talking about. Tell me more. What about the Ark?”
“I don’t have the big golden box everyone thinks of when they think of the Ark. I have the second one God ordered made. A simple wooden one described in both Exodus and Deuteronomy. Moses hid it, because the Ten Commandments in it are different than the ones he told his followers. He didn’t want to get caught in a lie, by showing his people the real ones. I found it, Taylor, and the minute I took it out of the ground, our government showed up and snatched it right out of my hands. Fortunately, I had a few warning signs that someone was spying on me so I had planted a fake Ark.”
“So the government stole the fake?
“Yes, that’s right. But they also took my girlfriend, Ann. The Mayanologist.”
“They kidnapped her? Whatever for?”
“I would have said they kidnapped her, until she shot me today. Point-blank. No emotion on her face. Now I have to wonder if she’s working for the FBI.”
“Did they have her long enough to brainwash her against you?”
“I don’t know. I don’t know how long that takes. I suppose.”
“Hmmph.” Taylor reflected. “Too bad you don’t know where they took the fake Ark.”
“I do. They took it to the National Museum of Art. I was supposed to trade the real thing for Ann today. I decided to give it to them, to get Ann back. I set up a meeting at the Harvard Club. Ann was there, with an FBI agent. She was acting odd, but that could have been for any number of reasons. I gave them the location of the real Ark and after they had it in their possession, Ann shot me. Just like that. She raised her gun, and shot me.”
Taylor stared at him for a full minute. He could tell by Thomas’s voice that he was as upset about losing Ann as he was about losing the Ark. “How’d you get out of there?”
“She stepped out of the room, to tell the FBI guy she had killed me. I heard her say that. ‘He’s dead.’ I jumped up, dove into an old dumbwaiter, ran out of the club’s kitchen, bought that jacket to hide the blood on my clothes, and jumped into a cab.”
“I can’t believe this all happened to you today. It sounds like a Bogart film. What are you going to do now?”
“When they stole the fake, they took it to the National Museum. I had put a GPS tracker in the crate. I think they’ll take the real one there again. I’m going to get it back.”
Taylor’s mouth dropped open. “Are you mad? Thomas, seriously. You’re a professor! A world-renowned archeologist. Not some hot-shot daredevil detective!”
“I’m also sitting here wounded and plenty pissed off. They not only took my find, they intended to kill me. I’m not going to wait around like some sitting duck so they can come and finish the job. I’m going to go get what is mine.”
“That’s a maximum security museum you’re talking about. And it sits less than a mile from the Pentagon. It’s a clear felony. You know that, right?”
“You’re only right if you leave out the part about them taking it from me first.”
“You’re not well, Thomas. You’ve lost a lot of blood.”
“I am well. I have to be well. Tonight they’ll be bringing it into the country from Mexico. Tomorrow is Saturday. They won’t get a group together to open it until Monday. Sunday is my only chance. After Sunday, I can’t be sure where it will be taken. They’ll probably move it Monday or Tuesday.”
“You’re probably right.”
“Getting it back will put me in debt. Can you find a good home for it? At a good price?”
“Are you sure you want to sell it?”
“I’ll have to. But only to the appropriate buyer. Very discreet, very high-end. You know what I mean. Someone who can appreciate this type of thing. Someone who will never sell it or reveal its presence. Highest confidentiality levels, of course. And I want access to it, once a year. Can you do that?” Thomas knew that Taylor was dialed into a world so rich, so decadent, that few even knew it existed.
“It’ll be one of the easiest jobs I’ve ever had. Once I establish provenance, that is.”
“Give them a sliver of wood for dating if you have to. This is important. And tell them that I can take them through the entire string of events that led to its unearthing.”
“Say no more. I’ll keep you posted. This is all assuming you get it back, of course.” Taylor drained his glass. He was smiling as he tried to determine how to calculate the commission on a priceless item.
There was a long, uncomfortable pause. “Speaking of money. How do you plan to pay these guys?
If
they agree to do the job?”
Thomas adjusted his position to make sure his wound wasn’t leaking out onto the chair. “Actually, I was planning to ask you for a loan. Against the sale price, once we sell it.”
“You can have the money. You know that, Thomas. But what if you don’t get the Ark back?”
“I’ll get it.”
“And if not?”
“I’ll get it. If I don’t, I won’t pay the guys that help me as much. I’ll make that part of the deal. So, if not, I’ll owe you, but not as much. You can garnish my wages.”
“You don’t have any wages.”
“Well . . . if I don’t get the Ark back, I’ll have to get a job.
Taylor leaned forward and narrowed his eyes. “Just don’t get caught! If you go to prison, I’ll never get my money back. When do these thugs show up?”
“I’m not sure they’ll come at all. As soon as Drew can round them up. Can I ask one more favor?”
Taylor rolled his eyes. “You show up here with a hole in your shoulder and expect the world. What do you want now?”
“I need you to find a payphone and call my rental car company. Tell them where my car is parked. They charge a little extra to go pick it up, but under the circumstances, I think I’ll pay.”
“Just write down all the information. I’ll go right now. I’m going to pick us up something to eat. Any requests?”
“You’re a saint, Taylor. I’ll take some kind of soup, a chicken sandwich with everything, as big a pickle as you can find, extra salty potato chips and . . . anything else that looks good.”