The Moses Riddle (Thomas McAllister 'Treasure Hunter' Adventure Book 1) (26 page)

After a day of observing her, he discovered someone else following her. After three days, he determined that the man she had kissed was living with her. After two weeks he understood her schedule. Ann’s routine was out of the house by seven every morning, always followed by the white Ford Taurus, driven by the man who was tailing her. She would park in the faculty lot at Yale, drop by a bakery for a bagel and coffee, sometimes a chocolate donut and coffee, and proceed to her small professorial office on Yale’s campus. On Mondays, Wednesdays, and Fridays, she taught a class called “The Ancient Maya,” at nine and ten o’clock in the morning, and again at one o’clock in the afternoon. On Tuesdays and Thursdays, her Archeology, Astronomy, and Mathematics course was at eight and eleven in the morning. When not in class, she usually stayed in her office, reading or grading, then left for home around four o’clock. She shopped for groceries on weekends and usually cooked at night. At least Thomas thought she did, because she and the man rarely went out.

The people who were following her worked in three shifts. Morning Guy came at six and was relieved at three by Afternoon Woman. She followed Ann home and was relieved at eleven by Night Guy. The followers never talked to each other. One would drive up, and the other would pull away. After close observation, Thomas realized there was only one time when she wasn’t being watched. Morning Guy usually left her every Monday, Tuesday, and Wednesday between nine and ten, to eat breakfast. Sometimes he went to the bakery she frequented, and then his detours were short, but more often he would go to a nearby Denny’s for something more substantial. Thomas sat a few booths away from him one day, to get a closer look at him. He was definitely wearing a gun, and was probably a government agent.

These little breakfast trips gave Thomas an hour or so to get to her. He began plotting a way to get her out of class. What worried him was that Morning Guy didn’t always go to breakfast. And even when he did, if he went to the bakery, it only took about twenty minutes. In the end, Thomas decided to play the numbers and assume Morning Guy would not start a diet on the morning of his attempt.

Since there was so little time involved, he would need to learn Yale’s process for pulling a teacher out of class. Did they use an intercom or a messenger? If they used an intercom, she would be alone on her trips to the phone and back. If Yale used teachers assistants to take messages to faculty, she would walk to the phone with the messenger and only be alone on her way back to the classroom.

Thomas positioned himself at a phone bank between the classroom of a teacher he didn’t know, named Teal, and the main office. He placed a call on his cell phone and told the receptionist that he had a private, emergency phone call for Dr. Teal. Thirty seconds later, a young female graduate assistant headed toward Room 4-C, Teal’s classroom. About a minute later, Teal and the assistant hurried down the same hallway, on their way to the office. Thomas hung up and waited. Two minutes later, Teal returned to his class, visibly frustrated that no one had been on the line. Good. The school did not use an intercom system. He would get Ann on her way back to her classroom.

Thomas surveyed the path between the office and Ann’s classroom during her Monday schedule and found a few opportunities. There was a classroom that was not used at nine, but it had a window on the door. There was a supply closet, but it was kept locked, and there was a men’s bathroom. The bathroom was out; anyone could walk in at anytime. The supply closet was locked. The classroom was his best bet. It was relatively small, with windows on one side and the door on the other. With the lights off, no one would be able to see into the room.

He planned the ambush for the following Monday. All campuses, even Yale, were a little somber on Mondays. Hopefully, Morning Guy would eat a particularly large, greasy breakfast that day.

Over the weekend, he made plans. It was difficult, because he didn’t know how Ann would react when she saw him. If she answered all of his questions to his satisfaction, maybe he could leave and go back to New York. That wasn’t what he wanted, though. He wanted her back. He now realized that if she had been brainwashed, or coerced into shooting him, there might still be a chance for the two of them to trust each other again.

Monday came all too soon. He dressed like a student, in jeans, loafers, an old polo shirt, and his Arizona baseball cap. He drove to the school early and parked a few blocks away.

From his parking place, he walked to a park bench where he could observe the bakery Ann frequented. She arrived on schedule and just like every other day, the minute he saw her, his throat constricted and his breathing became shallow. Through the bakery window he watched her reading the morning paper while she ate, then watched her take the short walk back to her office.

Thomas checked his watch. At exactly nine he knew she was beginning her Monday curriculum. He remained on the bench and waited for Morning Guy. At nine-twenty, right on time, Morning Guy walked into Denny’s. Perfect.

Thomas went directly to the vacant classroom and took out his cell phone. He dialed the number for Yale’s Department of Anthropology and told them that there was an emergency message for Ann Davenport, and that he must speak with her immediately. Like clockwork, he heard the graduate assistant rush past his classroom to pull Ann out of class. He heard the two of them walk briskly back to the office. He caught a glimpse of her worried face.

Thomas moved into position. He quietly opened the door to the empty classroom again and left it partially open. He took a small mirror from his pocket and angled it just right, so that he could watch the hallway for Ann’s return.

His heart quickened. He felt like a kid picking his date up on prom night
. What am I doing here? I haven’t seen her in weeks! I’m the last person she expects to see. What if she screams and fights?
Suddenly, he considered canceling the plan. Ann could have contacted him through Arturo if she’d wanted to. She hadn’t. She didn’t even care to know if he was alive. For all he knew she had a husband, maybe even a child.

She rounded the corner at the end of the hall! Aside from her, the hall was empty.
I can’t do this! He closed his mouth and took a deep relaxing breath. I have to do this, or I’ll never rest again. I love her and I know she loves me. Someone made her shoot me.

He could hear the brittle click of her heels on the marble floor as she got closer to the doorway he was hiding in. He pulled his mirror back, and then catastrophe struck. He held the mirror around the edges, between thumb and forefinger. As he stuffed the mirror into the front pocket of his Levi’s his thumb caught on the little watch pocket that all Levi’s have, just inside the right pocket. He squeezed his fingers together but rather than grasp the mirror more firmly, it shot out of his hand onto the silent marble, ten yards in front of Ann. The mirror bounced and shattered, glass spreading out in a circular motion from the point of impact.

The sound of her footsteps stopped. Thomas broke out into a sweat. Instinctually, he moved backward and flattened himself against the wall of the class room. Frozen.

Silence.
He heard Ann take two steps. She was trying to figure out what had hit the floor in front of her. She could see the open door of the classroom and that it was dark inside. She began to get frightened. Classes were still in session but the hallway was quite and deserted. Someone had obviously been waiting for her. Watching her. It began to make sense, because there had been no one on the phone call she’d gone to answer.

Reluctantly admitting to himself that his surprise attack had failed, Thomas pushed himself away from the wall and moved into the doorway. As he walked into view, the bill of his baseball cap obscured his face.

Slowly, he raised his head. “It’s me, Annie.” Then, like deja-vu, he saw that Ann had a gun drawn and pointed right at his heart. He remained calm. He had been through this once before, and he had lived. He looked down at her index finger, the one on the trigger, and it was not yet white from the pressure of pulling. Not yet.

Ann had never been more shocked in all her life. Tears immediately flooded her eyes and spilled down her cheeks. Her gun began shaking convulsively. Still trembling, she lowered the gun and started to collapse. Thomas caught her before she reached the floor.

He grabbed her around the waist and pulled her into the classroom, closing the door with one foot. He pulled her close and buried his face in her hair. She was shivering and he held her even tighter, as if there was something broken inside of her that he was trying to squeeze back together. Now he knew she still loved him. He could feel it.

She was crying uncontrollably and he worried that she would be heard by someone in another classroom.
“Oh darling!” She kissed him, her face wet with tears. “I’m so glad you came. So glad you’re all right.”
“I had to come, Annie. You’ve never left my mind. Ever.”
She buried her face in his neck, and then pulled her head back so that she could see his face. She gazed into his eyes, knocked the hat off his head, and vigorously ran her fingers through his hair, as if he weren’t real.
“You must go, Thomas! They’re watching me all the time. Even now. They’re out there somewhere. Please go, darling! For me.”
“Don’t worry, Annie. I’ve been here for two weeks, watching them watch you. We’re safe right now, until about ten o’clock.”
That reminded Ann what a careful planner Thomas was. It was what she needed. “Thank God you’re all right, Thomas. I didn’t realize how much I missed you, how much I needed you . . . .” Her voice trailed off, as her lips approached his. If she’s lying, she’s the best actor alive, Thomas thought.
She kissed him firmly, forcing their lips together by putting her hand on the back of his head. He understood that underneath the calm relaxed exterior he’d witnessed the past two weeks there was a person under enormous stress.
They kissed with increasing passion and Ann pressed her body into his. Without another word spoken, Thomas knew what she wanted. He wanted it, too. His hand found the edge of her skirt and he slid it up on to her hips. He swung her around so that her back was against the blackboard, resting her partly on the chalk holder that jutted out from the wall. Her vice-like grip around his neck held her perfectly suspended against the wall, legs spread, craving union.
It was as if they’d never met, yet known each other forever. They were completely in tune to each other’s needs and preferences, kissing wildly, tongues on fire, thrashing; hands exploring. They were meeting again, and in the most personal way, telling each other that they were still in love.
They were done, spent, leaning heavily on the blackboard, still coupled, when suddenly the class bell sounded, ending the nine o’clock period. It was ten o’clock! What had seemed like five minutes had consumed forty-five. Morning Guy would be back any minute . . .
if he wasn’t already
!
“Oh, my God!” Ann said, frantically arranging her skirt. “My class!”
Thomas picked up her panties and shoved them into his pocket. Ann grabbed the gun, which she had set on the chalkboard ledge, and slid it back into a holster under her skirt.
“Who’s that you’re living with?” Thomas asked.
“My brother.” An acceptable answer.
“You have to go, now!” Thomas said.
“I know! I’m going to cancel my nine o’clock class on Wednesday at the last minute. I’ll meet you here, a few minutes after nine. Okay?”
“We have a lot to talk about, Ann.”
“More than you know.” Without another word, she rushed from the room.
Neither one of them saw Morning Guy when they exited the room.

She was Dr. Ann Davenport, an expert in Mayan studies. She had been hired by the FBI a year ago, after she had finished graduate school, as part of a program designed to assist Mexican authorities in stopping the looting and export of pre-Columbian treasures into the United States.

“In March,” she explained, “a group of high-ranking government officials called my program director, and eight other women working on my program, into a conference room in the San Antonio office. They said that they had data that indicated one of the largest importers of illegal pre-Columbian antiquities was moving into Mexico and that he was targeting a very old site. A crown jewel. We were all upset that someone would attempt it, but excited about the opportunity to stop it. It validated our jobs. The officials didn’t know what site would be targeted; in fact, they didn’t know much about archeology at all. They just knew the approximate date of the site.”

“They told us the treasure this importer was seeking would have been buried around 1300 or 1350 BC, give or take 100 years, and they asked us for our opinions on what the richest and most active sites were during that time frame. They gave us two other criteria. The site had to be the dominant center of the culture for that period, and it had to be within fifty miles of the eastern coastline. We all agreed it had to be Olmec. They wanted the ten most likely locations. They were all in Veracruz, and we ranked them one through ten. Then they assigned each of us to one of the locations. We were to go to the site and set up camp, as though we were conducting a minor excavation. They placed me at El Manati, the one we agreed was most likely to be the target. You know the rest of that part of it.”

“That’s what you were doing when I saw you at the site that night that I fell on the cactus?”
“Yes. No one had any way of knowing if this renowned thief was going to show up at their site. The officials told us they’d be watching all ten sights. Of course the thief was you, but none of us knew that, nor did we know that the search you were conducting was perfectly legitimate. Once we made contact, we were to try to befriend the thief and, if possible, assist him in his work. And . . . well . . . you showed up on my hill.”
Ann leaned forward and kissed Thomas. He didn’t respond. She backed away, brushed a strand of hair from her cheek, and continued.
“In the beginning, the assignment sounded dangerous, but I was happy to do it. We all were. The way these government officials explained it, we were going after a known criminal. When you showed up, you looked like you could be a smuggler, so I thought you were. After all, you were sneaking up on me in the dark. That night at the bar, when Jose said your name, I was shocked. Thomas McAlister. You weren’t a site robber. You were a credible, well-known, highly respected archeologist. The officials had lied to us.” She paused. “It was the first of many lies.”
Ann sighed again. “When I found out who you were, I started to get suspicious of them and their motives. I realized I didn’t know any of them and, in retrospect, I realized they’d been very vague about the whole operation. Something was wrong. Once I learned you were working with Arturo, that cemented it for me. I had been fed faulty information, and I was being used. Arturo is a living legend among Mexican archeologists. After that first night, when you’d gotten drunk and confided in me about your firing from the university and your discovery of the Ark, I stopped being on their side. I swear to you, this is the truth, Thomas. Everything I did and said to you from that point forward was real. My love for you, my excitement over your project . . . all real.”
Thomas shook his head in doubt. He turned to stare out the windows on the far side of the classroom.
“I can prove it,” Ann said, clutching his arm. “Listen to me. After you located the Ark and we went back to Arizona for supplies, they asked me where the treasure was located. They asked if we’d found the right spot? They’d been watching from a distance the whole time. While we were away from the site, they were going to dig it up themselves and take it. I didn’t tell them that you’d actually located the position. I told them you needed more
detection
equipment. Not
extraction
! They would have gone in and dug it up with bulldozers, if I’d told them you’d found it.”
“Arturo was there,” Thomas said, his voice flat.
“Thomas, one man wouldn’t stop these people. We’re talking about the FBI. You remember the number of agents that swooped down on us. I kept telling them the deal was off. I told them that they had it wrong. You weren’t stealing. You and Arturo were respectable archeologists. At first, I thought they would listen, then I realized they didn’t care. I didn’t tell them that I was in love with you, but they guessed. They saw us on the roof of the hotel that night. I told them I would have nothing more to do with any of their plans. Said I would tell you about their plans if they didn’t leave me alone. I wanted to be with you and go back to my old job, which I loved. That was when they took my mother.”
“What? Say that again.”
“They took my m-mother.” Her mouth firmed and Thomas could tell she was close to tears.
“They kidnapped your mother?” Thomas asked, in true disbelief. “Your employer, the
government
? Come on, Annie, you expect me to believe
that
?”
“They still have her, Thomas! They claim
they
didn’t actually do it but that they were in contact with the group that did. Either way, I know Hargrove orchestrated it. They threatened that this volatile group would kill her, if I didn’t shoot you. They were desperate, Thomas. They know how suspicious, how cautious you are, and I was all they had! That’s why I . . . s-shot you. They
made
me do it.” Tears welled in her eyes. “They said they’d kill my mom and get my brother next.” Her lower lip began to tremble. “I didn’t know what to do. Thomas, they are all the family I have.” She started to cry. “I t-tried to do it in a place that wouldn’t . . . h-hurt you.”
“That day, when we took the Ark out and they came and stole it . . . I didn’t know they were going to take me, too. I thought they’d have what they wanted, my mother would be okay, and you and I would be together. That’s all that mattered to me. They took me forcefully that day. Thomas, please believe me. I swear it on my life.”
Thomas asked. “Why would they take you? As far as they were concerned, they had what they needed. They thought they had the real Ark. Why would they still need to take you?”
“I-I guess they thought they might still need me. I don’t know.”
“What did you say? Didn’t you fight them?”
“They said they would only keep me from you until everything settled down. They told me it would probably be a week. Then they found out they had confiscated a fake! They were shocked. DJ Warrant was livid. He had been humiliated. This was the first case he had ever lost, he said. I laughed at them. I told them they could never outsmart you. But they said they could, because they had me. I was their leverage. I told them I would
never
help them. And that’s when they took my mother.” Ann’s voice lowered to a whisper. “I still don’t know where she is, Thomas. They let her call me once a week, so that I know she’s all right. All she ever says is, ‘Do what they say, Annie. Do what they say.’”
Tears spilled down Ann’s cheeks again. “I couldn’t go back. So I came back here to teach. We’re all taking a breather, I suppose. I just don’t know if I can ever go back, knowing what that agency is capable of.”
“They still have her? Your mother? And you have no idea where she is?”
“I’ve been a good little government employee, especially after obediently shooting you. So they’re bringing her back Saturday. At least that was the plan. The latest I heard was that they think you’ve stolen the Ark from them
again
. They’re not altogether sure you were involved, because the job was professionally handled. Some of them don’t believe you’d be capable of such a difficult heist, especially injured, but nevertheless, they’re not sure . . . so they’re watching me. They’re telling me they might need me again. Oh, Thomas, are you sure they’re not watching
you
?”
“I took some pretty evasive moves before I left New York.”
Thomas was glad that she hadn’t asked him if he was the one who had stolen the Ark. It showed him that she truly didn’t care about the Ark, only about him. If she was still working for the government, she would want to know.
Her story was believable. They’d worked her into a very tight spot. She’d do any thing to protect her mother. He trusted her. Almost fully. Only it was hard for him to forget the cold look in her eyes when she’d pointed the gun and pulled the trigger. So, he would wait and watch and listen to her, before giving up that last glimmer of doubt. As long as she didn’t ask him questions about the location of the Ark, he felt they might be all right.
He understood what had happened. He saw the psychology behind every action. First, she was doing her job. Then, she was keeping her mother alive. Yes, she had shot him, but as despicable as that action was, it hadn’t been lethal. If you looked at that act alone, objectively, she had tried to minimize the damage by aiming for a safe area of his body. And he’d heard her declare that he was dead, when she knew he probably wasn’t.
“Listen, Ann,” he said. “We have to get out of here. Far away, while things cool down.”
“I want that more than anything, darling, but I have to make sure my family is safe. I will not leave them in danger.”
“If we all want to stay alive and be left alone, then your brother and mother are going to have to go away, too. We all have to disappear. Our government will not give up until they have what they want or can’t afford to keep looking for it anymore. We need to disappear until they decide to re-deploy resources. On your way to class on Friday, stick your head in this classroom. I’ll be here. Give me an envelop with three photos of you, three of your mother, and three of your brother. Head shots. Okay?”
“Are you going to get us fake identification?”
“Yes, licenses, passports, and credit.”
“All right. I can do that. After that, when will we meet again?”
“Next Wednesday. One week from today. I’ll need you for a full hour. Can you have your students do some work at the library or something? “
“Yes, but I won’t tell them until that day, in case the agent following me has befriended one of them. I’ll send them to do some research. They’ll love me. Half of them will go to a bar.” She paused, then said, “Are you sure you can pull this off, Thomas? I mean, you’re a great planner, but you’re an archeologist, not an international spy.”
“I can do it. I’m becoming an expert at making things disappear.”
She tilted her head and smiled at him. He would have loved to know what she was thinking. Was she wondering if he was the person who’d made the Ark disappear from the National Museum?