The Moses Riddle (Thomas McAllister 'Treasure Hunter' Adventure Book 1) (13 page)

“Very well, thank you, Tom.” Arturo eyed him over the rim of his coffee cup.
“Make sure you both get enough to eat. If the stone we hit yesterday doesn’t have the correct markings, we could be in for a long day.”
Arturo nodded agreement. Ann wanted more information. “What if the inscription
is
there? What do we do then?”
Thomas paused to enjoy his first taste of the strong Mexican coffee, hoping that Ann didn’t see the concern he felt over her question. It wasn’t only that he didn’t like the question. Though not a superstitious man, he never like talking as though the mission were already complete and successful. It was also that the he didn’t like her level of interest. He knew it was avid curiosity, but he would rather she let things play out naturally.
His eyes met Ann’s. He couldn’t quite read her. She looked a little afraid and a little too curious. Which was it? Maybe she wasn’t ready for such a big find. “If we find it,” he said, silently knocking on the underside of the table, “then we’ll cover it up and leave it where it is.”
“What?” Ann looked horrified. “What do you mean, we’ll leave it? We can’t
leave
it!”
Arturo folded his napkin into a square and leaned forward to peer at Ann with widened eyes. “If we do find the inscription, Ann, how do you propose we move such a stone? Do you know how much each one of those stones weighs?”
Ann was visibly shaken by the news that they would not be able to excavate immediately. “Why, we’ll rig a pulley and pull the stone out with my truck! We’ll get a pulley and . . . we’ll—” She threw her hand up into the air in exasperation. “Oh, come
on
, guys, there has to be a way!”
Arturo laughed, “That is one of the mysteries of these pyramids, Ann. As you undoubtedly know, we still can’t figure out how the Mayans cut and moved these 4000-ton stones in the first place. There is no way the three of us are going to move one of them an inch without a heavyduty commercial winch and without anchoring your truck. If we tried to do it today, the tires would simply spin in place.”
“Arturo’s right, Ann. If we find the inscription, we’ll cover it up and leave. I will go back to the States for a winch and all the other supplies we’ll need for excavation and transport. We’ve got to do this right.”
“But . . . who will guard the find?” Ann asked.
Why would her first question be about guarding the find, Thomas thought. It’s been sitting out here unguarded for over three thousand years.
“I’m not sure we need a guard, but Arturo and I have already worked that out. He will stay here.”
Ann put her fork down and took a drink of water. She realized that the plans had been determined before she had entered the picture. She wondered what, if any, her role would be. Would they include her? Would they let her help out? The last two days, since she’d found out who Thomas was, had been two of the most exciting of her life. Yes, she had acted mad when she learned his true identity, but in reality she’d been excited, and things had only gotten better. Not only was she spending time with a handsome mentor, but they were hunting treasure, her lifelong dream. She didn’t want it to end.
Thomas glanced at her from the corner of his eyes. He scraped his plate clean, drained his water, pushed his chair back and said, “Okay, let’s hit it.” He’d wait until they had located the inscribed stone before making a decision on what to do about Ann.
They drove to the site in Ann’s Range Rover Discovery.
It was just as they had left it. They quickly removed the loose dirt they had used to cover the previous day’s work and Thomas took first shift. He began the tedious work of clearing the area with a paint brush, gently moving the dirt away, layer after layer.
Ann peered into the pit, asking questions. Like artists, archeologists each have their own technique, their own preferences as how to best go about clearing a site without disturbing it. Thomas worked expertly, with both hands, usually his small trowel in one hand and a stiff, horsehair brush in the other. Over the years, he had become ambidextrous, the result of countless hours of toiling in the Egyptian desert.
“I think the stone we’re looking for will have three lines on each side, near a corner, that meet at each crease. If the square stone could be flattened, like a map, the lines would form a circle, like a two-thousand year old bulls-eye. At least that’s my theory. So, I’m looking for corners.” Once he reached the bottom edge of the first stone, he started to dig horizontally. An hour later, he saw the distinct line of a seam, where the next block began.
Thomas slid the trowel in his back pocket and switched brushes, using one with stiffer hair to whisk away the hardened earth from the original rock. The stone he’d been working on did not contain the inscription. He paused to wipe sweat from his forehead with the sleeve of his shirt. Ann and Arturo were both sitting on the mounds of soil at the mouth of the hole, watching him intently. This was Thomas’s project, and they knew not to interfere. It was widely known that few people were better at tactical digging than Thomas. If he determined this was not the correct location, they would be ready to assist him in moving on to try a new one.
They were now looking at two stones, side by side, midway up the pyramid. Thomas squinted up at his companions. “We have a couple of options. We could clear the area to the left, or keep moving to the right to find the next seam.”
Ann said, “Should we flip a coin?”
Thomas effortlessly pulled himself out of the pit, like a gymnast on the parallel bars, and searched in his field bag for his surveying equipment. He stuck an orange flag in the ground above the seam, and strode down the pyramid. He quickly set up a tripod one hundred feet from the base of the pyramid. He was so familiar with the equipment that one task flowed into the next, each movement liquid. Economical.
He was on the verge of finding something. He could feel it. The heavy telescope slid onto the tripod with a reassuring click, and he was pointing the view finder at the pyramid seconds later. This was his world, his tried and true equipment, and it was totally familiar to him. He worked in a trance-like state, totally comfortable with everything around him. His initial insecurity about this being Mexico and not Egypt that had been secretly gnawing at him for days evaporated. All his senses, at every level, were tuned to the work at hand. He was, as they said in sports,
in the zone
.
He lined up the vertical crosshair with the center of the rounded peak of the pyramid. He peered through the scope for several minutes without speaking. Then, he hiked back to the excavation site and jumped into the pit.
“Arturo, toss me the #5 trowel, will you?” This was like a small digging tool, like a gardening shovel, but wider. Digging hard to the right, he cleared dirt quickly, letting chunks fall to the bottom of the pit. Then, using a small trowel and a digging method called planning, he cleared debris away from the side of the stone, coming within millimeters of actually scraping the stone.
Then, never looking away from his work he said, “Arturo, I need the hearth brush.” This was a rough brush made of longer horse hair. He used this to whisk away large amounts of dirt and debris without scratching the stone. He brushed quickly, in a meditative state, totally absorbed in his work, until finally the upper corner of the stone appeared. He took an old toothbrush from his shirt pocket and moved it back and forth across the area, removing microscopic amounts of dirt at a time.
“What do you see, Thomas? Anything?” Ann hadn’t moved from the edge of the cavity.
“Nothing yet, Annie.” he said, so absorbed in his work he didn’t realize he’d used a pet name for her. It was the first time he’d ever called her Annie, and she liked it. She took her eyes off the stone, and looked at his back, amazed at how much she liked hearing him use the personal form of her name.
Suddenly, Arturo’s voice boomed, “
Yes
, senor,
yes
!”
Startled, Ann spun to see what he was screaming about, but he was already running down the hill toward the truck, shouting unintelligible Spanish and waving his hat in the air.
She turned back to Thomas.
“What is it, Thomas? Did you find something?”
Thomas was using the handle end of the toothbrush to pry dirt out of a circular crevice, close to the corner of the stone. He had already cleared two lines and was finishing the third. “
I’ve found the marker
!”
In a lightning fast motion, he moved the brush up, whisking away the last remnants of debris. Lines, cut near the corner of the stone, met at the edge of the rock to form . . . a circle. A circle on a square.
“Ann, get Arturo. I want you to both come down and see this!” She turned, and ran down to the Rover, where Arturo was still hooting and hollering.
Alone in the pit, Thomas took a deep breath. This meant so much more to him than the fact that there might be treasure behind this stone. The latest series of events in his life had made him question himself as a professor and archeologist. Doubts had begun to creep in. Had the Amenophis find been a fluke? Should he have asked the Curriculum Review Board for approval? The questions fed on themselves, buttressed themselves, until they became firmly supported, rational arguments that diluted reality. Years ago, back in Egypt, hadn’t he questioned his decision to dig where he had at the Amenophis site? He had known the Curriculum Review Board’s rules, so hadn’t he, in a way, engineered his own firing? In the days past, cons had begun to stack up against the pros, making him scrutinize the one thing he’d always held sacred: his talent as an Egyptologist.
The finding of the marker was the last critical dependency. Up until now, if he had failed, he would be going home with his lingering doubts confirmed, essentially a failure. But here it was. He’d found it.
Yet, underlying every thought, never far from the surface, was the knowledge, the black, nightmarish fear, that maybe, quite possibly . . . there was nothing behind this stone.

How the hell had things come to this? Had he really reached the point of being willing to shoot an intruder in order to get back down to Mexico? And where was Ann? She had said she had a couple of errands and would be back in an hour. It had been two already. A recurring fear reminded him that he’d decided rather quickly to bring her to Arizona with him.

The door swung open and a blond pony tail whipped around as Ann stepped into the room and shut the door. Thomas let out a breath and stood up. He was too skittish. Of course it was Ann. He replaced the gun and walked into the room. She saw him and smiled. Without saying a word she put her bag down, walked over, and kissed him fully on the lips.

“So, Doctor, who is it that wants to know what you know so damn badly? Did you find out?” She pressed herself against him and nuzzled her face in his neck.

“No, I still don’t know. The front door was smashed and there was someone in the yard, probably trying to figure out how I escaped. That white van was in the driveway, but no clue as to who they were.” Thomas felt himself responding to her hug when the phone rang. He pushed Ann away, instantly concerned
.
Who could possibly be calling? No one knew they were here.

“I’ll get it,” Ann said. “My name’s on the room registry.” She picked up the receiver, and held it slightly away from her ear so he could listen at the same time. “Hello?”

“Miss Havenport?” The voice was Hispanic.
“Yes, this is she.”
“Miss Havenport, it is Hector, the valet. I helped you with your

baggage.”
“Yes, Hector? Did we forget something?”
“No, senorita, but . . . I need to talk to you. Quickly.” “You need to talk with me?” Ann repeated Hector’s words to buy

“It could be a trick. If someone followed me, this could be a way to get us to open the door.”
“I remember Hector. I tipped him well because he helped me load the winch into the back of the Rover. He may really be trying to help us.”
“All right, invite him over.” Thomas headed to the bathroom for his gun.
“When can you come, Hector?”
“It must be now!”
“Come along then. Knock three times, pause, then three times again.”
With the gun in his hand, Thomas flattened himself against the wall of the bathroom. Within seconds, there were three quick raps on the door, a pause, and then three more. Ann unlatched the lock and opened the door. Hector slipped into the room and she quickly closed and relocked the door behind him. Thomas came around the corner, the gun tucked in his jeans at the small of his back.
Hector’s eyes darted from Ann to Thomas and back to Ann. “I’m sorry to disturb you.” He was clearly nervous with Thomas in the room.
Ann calmed him. “This gentleman is with me, Hector. You can speak freely. What is this about?”
“I am in the office and I begin to walk out, but I hear a man say he is FBI. So I listen. My friends . . . many are . . . illegals, but this man, he is not looking for illegals. He ask who is in Cabana Nine. I remember nine, because you give me big tip, senorita. The clerk, she give him your name, tell him you check out tomorrow morning.”
“When was this, Hector?”
“Maybe ten minutes ago, senorita. And he ask who the man staying with is.”
“How did he know about the man?”
“I do not know, senorita.”
Ann glanced at Thomas as he moved to the window and peered out through the curtain. “There still could be time.”
“Thank you so much, Hector!” She reached for her purse and removed a one-hundred dollar bill. “Can you remember anything else?”
Hector’s eyes widened. “Muchas gratias, senorita! The man, he drive a blue Taurus. He leave hotel, after he know this room number.”
Blue Taurus?
Blue Taurus
? Thomas wondered why that would seem so familiar to him, but he couldn’t recall.
Ann walked Hector to the door. “Thank you again, Hector. Please, tell no one about this. Okay?” He nodded and was gone.
“Stupid of me to drive down my own street in broad daylight! I think I remember seeing a blue Taurus as I turned off Nightingale. The driver must have recognized me through the window. FBI? Why the hell would
they
be following me? I should’ve sent
you
!”
Ann rubbed his back. “It’s a chance you needed to take, Thomas. We’ve got some time. The clerk told him I was checking out tomorrow. The man left after finding out about us. He either has to come back alone or send a team. If we move quickly, we can still get out of here without them knowing we’ve gone.”
“They know your car now, Ann. We’ve got to get another. If we leave yours here, and sneak out, they’ll think we’re staying all night. That’ll give us a good lead.”
“We can’t do that, Thomas! You know I worked long and hard for Lucille and there is no way I’m going to desert her. Plus, we need her. We’ve mounted the winch and modified the gas tank.”
Lucille was Ann’s Land Rover Discovery. Thomas knew Lucille was a matter of pride for her. She’d worked hard for the car and it was a symbol of her independence. And she was right about all of the modifications they’d made. Replacing the winch and redoing the work they had done on the gas tank would delay the trip considerably.
“Annie, what’s more important here, Lucille or what’s waiting for us in Mexico?”
“Thomas, I can’t do it. I can’t leave her here to be impounded, torn apart, or sold off at auction.”
“Wait a minute. I know exactly what we’ll do!”
A forest green Discovery, an exact replica of Lucille, pulled in front of Cabana Nine thirty minutes after Ann placed the call to Off Road Rental Company. She had told them it was urgent and must be delivered immediately. They could pick it up by noon the next day.
By the time it arrived, they had loaded their gear into Lucille and Thomas was lying on the floor in back, waiting for Ann. She wanted to be outside when the rental vehicle arrived, so she could direct it to the right parking spot. She had moved Lucille, to make room for it.
Ann paid the delivery kid with travelers checks and sent him away with his ride. She tucked the keys to the rented vehicle under the driver’s seat floor mat and hustled toward the oleander hedge that separated the Camelback Inn from the adjoining property. She had barely passed through the hedge and was about to get into the driver’s side of her car, when two FBI vans pulled into the Camelback parking lot, ready to set up surveillance on Cabana Nine.
To exit the adjacent property, Ann had to use a driveway near the entrance to the Inn. She crept forward, keeping an eye out for government vehicles, the blue Taurus in particular. Traffic cleared and she pulled out, turning left, feeling relieved that there was no Taurus in sight. She turned right on Scottsdale Road and took it all the way to 360, Superstition Highway, then turned onto 10 South. Staying on 10 would have been faster, but she took Exit 162 to the two-lane highway 347. It would take them through various back roads, to the border town of Lukeville, then to Sonoyta, Mexico. From there, they could cross the Mexican border and head south/southeast into the state of Veracruz.
As they passed Firebird Lake, Ann smiled, remembering their trip north three weeks ago. They had taken back roads, and though they were hurrying, they were also exploring. They were exploring each other. Filled with the curiosity and hope that comes with a new relationship. Long rambling conversations. A sensual excitement. It felt good to give herself to someone again, to trust and share. Everyday she’d let herself go a little more. She understood why they called it “falling.” She had fallen, and fallen hard, for Thomas McAlister.
Sitting in the passenger seat, Thomas, too, had a small smile on his face. He hoped Ann didn’t see it, and he looked at her out of the corner of his eye. She was smiling too. He was tempted to ask why but thought better of it. He would never know that she was smiling for the exact same reason he was.
It had happened quickly for him too. He had immersed himself in Ann, knowingly. Willingly. The excitement of being newly in love had rejuvenated him and he understood how some people could marry so many times. They had fallen in love with falling in love. There had been only one drawback the entire time. It was the gnawing sensation that someone was getting closer and closer to figuring out where the treasure was, and that they were readying an attempt steal it from him. First, the Amenophis notes were stolen. Next he’d gotten the voice mail message from Martha telling him that she had seen Dr. Sinistar working inside the temple of Saqqara. Now, he knew the FBI had him under continuous surveillance.
Thomas knew he had to take whatever measures were necessary to get back to Mexico unnoticed. If he weren’t successful, if he got caught, it was likely the treasure would be taken from him. That thought had been enough to motivate him as he had crawled through the repugnant, claustrophobic Scottsdale sewer one night earlier.
Thomas reclined his seat a little. Enjoying the calm after the storm. All his plans were made. All the contingencies in place. He’d done all the planning he could do. Some he had told Ann about, some he hadn’t.