Brian Sadler Archaeological Mysteries BoxSet

by Bill Thompson

  The man pointed to the parchment still rolled up in the shopping bag. “What does that scroll say?”

  “I have not opened it, sahib. It is fragile and should be handled very carefully. Since it was found with the scrap and coin, I am certain it is also of the time of the Christian Messiah, around two thousand years ago.”

  “What is your price for these items?” From his accent, Alim wasn’t sure whether the man was American or not. He dealt often with Westerners and was prepared for their “get down to business” attitude, but this man had been with him only a few minutes. This was disconcertingly fast and the man was being unbelievably rude.

  “I want five hundred thousand US dollars for the three items.”

  Jackson looked him squarely in the eyes. “I’m sure you do. I am going to give you ten thousand dollars cash today. Then I am going to take these items to be authenticated. If they are what you say, you will receive one hundred thousand dollars more.”

  “No, that is much too low…”

  The pockmarked man interrupted him. “Mr. Shakir, listen carefully to me. I am not a man who negotiates. And you are not a man who wants to trifle with me. I am offering you more money than you have ever seen in your miserable life and you want to sit here and barter with me?”

  The man stood, pulled a thick envelope out of his inner suit coat pocket and tossed it on the table. “Here’s your down payment.”

  Alim made a sudden decision. He would fight aggression with aggression. He picked up the shred of parchment and the coin and dropped them back in his shopping bag.

  “You cannot have the item. I will call the authorities if you attempt to steal them from me. You will never leave Jericho if you do.”

  Alim Shakir threw a few shekels on the table to pay for the coffee. He walked confidently out of the hotel without looking back, and strolled toward the town square a couple of blocks away. He was certain the man would catch up with him and give him far more money than he had offered.

  As Shakir walked, the driver’s door of a car parked parallel to the sidewalk suddenly opened just next to him. A Semitic man emerged from the car, closed a cell phone and said, “Mr. Shakir, please do not be too hasty. Mr. Jackson just called. He has what he thinks is an acceptable trade for you to consider.”

  Reaching through to the back door, the driver lowered the darkly tinted window slightly. “Take a look inside.”

  Shakir stooped slightly and looked through the window opening. In the back seat his wife lay stripped naked, bound and gagged. He could see the terror in her eyes.

  “We will release her once Mr. Jackson has left Israel,” the man told Alim.

  “All right. I’ll take the deal. Give me the ten thousand.”

  “Oh no. The deal now is that you get your wife back. That’s all, you greedy bastard.”

  He took the shopping bag, looked inside to confirm its contents and drove away, leaving Alim Shakir standing on the sidewalk.

  Even though he knew it was futile, Shakir memorized the license number of a car that had been stolen only moments before and which would be found in the desert a few days later, with his wife’s naked, ravaged body in the back seat. He never related his story to the authorities. He knew his only hope to live was to keep quiet.

  And he too knew he would never see this amazing find again.

  Chapter Seven

  Cairo, Egypt

  2004

  The pockmarked man who had posed as a police inspector yesterday at the museum now sat in his apartment in the fashionable Giza District of Cairo. It was appropriate that he could see the Great Pyramid outside his bedroom window. In the past few years he’d become somewhat of an authority in antiquities.

  Over the past five years he’d acquired nearly a dozen priceless objects. Some he had purchased. Most had been stolen. Until now, he had thought there would never be an item he couldn’t sell, but this time he had something that might prove to be the exception.

  He had a network of people in bazaars across the Middle East. Even as Alim Shakir interpreted the small piece of parchment, he already knew where he’d sell the item. He had called a contact in Jerusalem, who in turn called Cairo.

  The man in Jerusalem had received one thousand dollars for simply passing the information along to Cairo. Everyone was happy, the pockmarked man knew. Well, maybe not the pig Alim Shakir, who could have briefly had ten thousand dollars before he lost his own life. Instead he lived but his wife was dead.

  The man was an American but he’d lived in Cairo for so long that he spoke Egyptian like a native. He sat on his couch with the three items in front of him. He’d used one of his fake credentials to convince the Museum director to have the scroll translated while he waited. “It’s key to solving an important case,” the fake policeman had said.

  And even though he already knew what the two sentences on the small shred of parchment said, he was truly unprepared for the scroll’s translation.

  In his lifetime he had dealt with some truly unique artifacts, highlighting the glories of ancient Rome, Greece and Egypt, his adopted country. But never in history had anyone imagined the eyewitness account of a person who had seen the baby Jesus, the Messiah Yeshua.

  He took his time to determine the best course of action. He’d been working lately for a client in America, doing mundane tasks, none of it related to his real business, brokering artifacts. This client treated him like a servant. He was paid well to make phone calls and tie up loose ends, but with the artifacts he had in his possession he could break the tie with this client forever. That was a good thing. A continued association with this particular client could come to no good.

  The American had plenty of money in several bank accounts across Europe. He would be in no hurry to dispose of these three things. They would provide him a comfortable retirement and the ability to enjoy life to the fullest for once. He put the items back into the shopping bag and went to the Giza branch of the National Bank of Scotland, where he maintained a large safety deposit box. The items were safely tucked away until he needed them.

  Two days later the man placed a call to New York City. He described in detail the three artifacts he possessed and faxed a copy of the notepad from Achmed, the translator at the museum. As he anticipated, the client in America was very interested in the items.

  What he didn’t anticipate was that he would be paid just a simple finder’s fee for his efforts and the items would then belong to the client. But the man in Cairo had had no choice, and quickly agreed that he would turn over the items to his New York client for less than a hundred thousand dollars. He was afraid of his client – he’d seen what the man could do to get what he wanted. The pockmarked man was not interested in having his client’s tactics applied to him personally. Although he lost the chance for huge money, he chose deference over danger.

  Chapter Eight

  New York City

  April, 2006

  It was after midnight. Brian and Nicole sat in the middle of the king sized bed in hotel bathrobes, eating hamburgers and French fries they’d ordered from room service.

  “I’ve been starving for an hour,” she said, laughing. “I thought you were never going to get around to buying me dinner.”

  “Who was the one that kept pulling me back every time I tried to move even an inch?”

  “Hey! It didn’t seem to be too much of an inconvenience for you.”

  Up to this point, nothing had been said about her being in the hotel room when he had arrived four hours ago. He’d undressed quickly – his clothes were lying all over the floor – and joined her in bed. It took only a few minutes of intense kissing before her pink panties joined the pile of discarded clothing. They took their time for the rest.

  For over an hour they explored each other, touching, gently rubbing and lightly moving over sensitive skin and moist areas ready for more. She took him in both her hands, rubbing up and down for long minutes as he groaned. He felt her hard nipples and tight, firm buttocks.

&n
bsp; There was nothing they missed as the hours passed and one orgasm came after another. Finally around eleven they came together, she on top. Her back arched then she fell off him onto the bed. Both of them were sweating and exhausted.

  “Wow,” she said. “I need a cigarette.”

  “I didn’t know you smoked.”

  “I don’t, but now seems like a hell of a good time to start.” They laughed and lay on the bed as the moonlight through the hotel window played across their naked bodies.

  Finally she went into the bathroom and turned on the shower. She emerged wearing nothing except for a towel around her wet hair.

  “You forgot your clothes!”

  “I have a towel. That’s enough.”

  He looked at her. She was a beautiful, clearly natural blond. She stood at the end of the bed and said, “Let’s order something to eat.” They did, and in the thirty minutes he had to kill, Brian had showered too.

  Brian looked at her and smiled.

  “What?”

  “How did you get in my room?”

  “It was easier than I thought it would be. I told Collette I was your attorney and of course I was on the guest list. I asked her where you were staying so I could get a room there too. I ended up here and gave one of the bellmen $100 to let Mrs. Brian Sadler into your room as a surprise. The rest is history.”

  “Where’s your luggage?”

  “I have a hang-up that has everything I need. It was at the gallery during the auction and now it’s in your closet!”

  He smiled. “What made you think I would be alone, and that I’d be interested?”

  “That part was strictly woman’s intuition. I think I can tell when there’s chemistry, and there damn sure is between us. And were you alone? I checked the room when I got in, saw nothing but man-things, got undressed and waited for you. If you’d shown up with some bimbo I guess my intuition would have been wrong. But you didn’t, and I wasn’t, and I’d like to congratulate us on the great sex we just had!”

  They drank a six-pack of beer that had come with their order from the restaurant, turned on a classic movie and watched very little of it. They laughed and talked for a couple of hours, then turned off the lights and ended up right back where they had started.

  Chapter Nine

  On Saturday morning Brian retrieved the New York Times outside his hotel room door, ordered coffee and bagels and got back in bed. He’d put on his bathrobe while Nicole dived under the covers to let the room service waiter in, but now they were naked again, lying next to each other drinking coffee and reading.

  “I have to say, in Dallas I received distinct vibes from you indicating you didn’t like me very much.”

  “I still think you’re a total idiot for what you did in your deposition. But I have a professional side and a personal side. My personal side thinks you’re hot and I wanted to sleep with you.”

  “Well, it looks like you got what you wanted.”

  She laughed. “I think maybe you also got what you wanted.”

  “No doubt about that,” he said, kissing her deeply. One thing led to another and shortly the action started up once again.

  They awoke with sunlight streaming into the room. Nicole sat up and looked at the clock on the nightstand. It was after two pm.

  “Shit. I have a flight in two hours.”

  “I’d say you’re screwed.”

  “That’s an understatement! But I’m going to miss my flight. When are you going home?”

  He gave her his return flight information and she switched to the Sunday flight Brian had booked. She upgraded to first class and said, “I’ll sit by you. We’ll make whatever little hottie’s in the seat next to you switch seats with me.”

  “Actually, you’ll be the little hottie in the seat next to me.”

  “Oh. How rude of me. I forgot to ask first if you’d care if I stay one more night.”

  “I thought you’d never ask.”

  She smiled and lay back on the bed, running her fingers down his chest until she reached where she wanted to be.

  Chapter Ten

  They were watching the news when Brian’s cell phone rang. It was Darius.

  “I hope you’re outside enjoying the beautiful day I hear you’re having in New York.”

  “Actually I’ve stayed in until now, catching up on some things.” Nicole’s muffled giggle came from the pillow where she’d buried her head. “But I am going out shortly.” He hit her playfully on the back to shush her up.

  “I told you I was chasing a rumor about something big that may be coming on the market. I wasn’t able to confirm anything. This type of thing happens. Shadows, whispers, rumors may be all you hear for days or years. Then something hits the street that makes your heart race. All I’ve learned is that there may be some ancient Jewish relics that have never been offered before.”

  That often happened. A reclusive collector dies and his collection sees the light of day for the first time. A relic stolen by the Nazis and presumed lost for decades suddenly turns up in a Bavarian mine.

  “Don’t get excited about this yet,” he cautioned. “If it happens, it happens. That kind of thinking keeps you from getting off course.”

  Darius hoped if the relics did exist, that the publicity generated by Bijan over the sarcophagus sale would give the gallery a chance to be on the short list of potential buyers.

  He repeated how pleased he was with everything. “Collette gave you the complete stamp of approval. That means a lot to me. She’s a discerning woman and I trust her instincts about people. She’s helped me land a big deal more than once, and also to steer away from some that could have caused headaches.”

  Nicole went into the bathroom and turned on the hair dryer as Brian and Darius talked. The offering was tentatively scheduled to go public in two weeks. Brian said he would quit the firm then, move to New York and hopefully be settled in a month or less.

  When he was finished Brian knocked on the bathroom door.

  “Come in,” Nicole yelled over the buzz of the hair dryer. She stood naked in front of the mirror.

  He walked over and stood directly behind her, pushing against her back.

  “My God, Brian,” she said, turning off the dryer. “I’m not going to be able to walk by tomorrow.”

  “That’s my goal!” He led her back to the bedroom.

  Around four they went outside and walked around. The day truly was gorgeous, warm and breezy. They window-shopped, ended up on Madison Avenue in the 60s, and popped in to one of the small Italian sidewalk cafes that were everywhere. They sat on the sidewalk, had a few glasses of Pinot Grigio and some pasta.

  Brian mentioned there was an open house tomorrow for a new apartment building in Gramercy Park.

  “I have to find a place soon, so let’s go down there tomorrow morning before we head back to Dallas. That is, if you can keep your clothes on long enough.”

  “Me? It takes two to tango, buddy. I’m up for it if you are. And while I’m on the subject, I’ve noticed you’ve been up for it very well so far!”

  Chapter Eleven

  Dallas

  Four weeks later

  Bijan Rarities Limited went public the third Friday in May without a hitch. Brian submitted his resignation from Warren Taylor and Currant effective the same day. The guys on the trading floor threw a combination celebration and going away party at Cru, a wine bar down the block. As the party got into full swing, Brian searched the room for Nicole.

  They’d seen each other often since their time in New York. She’d thought the Gramercy Park apartment looked great, and he put a ten thousand dollar check down to pay for deposit and rent. He was planning to move next week.

  His impending relocation to New York had made their relationship a little awkward. They couldn’t make serious plans for the future and both of them knew long-distance relationships were difficult to maintain. They’d gone out for a few dinners, spent a few nights at one apartment or the other, and met for drinks every ot
her day or so.

  This afternoon he left her a voicemail asking her to come to Cru for the party. He’d been at the bar for over an hour already and she hadn’t arrived. He found himself desperately wishing she’d show up. They hadn’t talked much about feelings, but he was getting seriously interested in her. He was glad he had both the money and the upcoming travel schedule that would allow him to get together with her at least every few weeks. He didn’t like the idea of time away from her.

  His reverie ended suddenly. “Snap out of it, buddy!” his cube-mate Jim Palmer said. “I get someone new next to me. I should be the one daydreaming about the beautiful college graduate who’s going to sit next to me, fall in love and whisk me away to her daddy’s villa in France!” Brian laughed and clinked glasses with a number of well-wishers.

  At eleven the party was over. Brian grabbed a cab. He’d come back and get his car tomorrow. As much as he’d had to drink, driving wasn’t a good idea. He checked his phone and saw he’d missed a voicemail earlier. In the noisy bar he hadn’t heard it.

  “I’m not coming to your going-away party. We have less than a week before you leave. I’ve never lost control of my emotions before but it’s happening to me now. I don’t want to share the time we have left with anybody else. Let’s have dinner tomorrow night someplace quiet. Call me Saturday and let’s figure it out. Hope your party was fun. Oh and…” there was a long hesitation. “…oh, nothing. I’ll talk to you tomorrow.”

  Chapter Twelve

  New York City

  Five months later

  Brian left his Gramercy Park apartment at eight and walked to the 23rd Street subway station. He exited the northbound train at Grand Central. The trees had lost all their leaves and a crisp fall wind heralded the beginning of the winter season.

  He emerged from the cavernous station on Vanderbilt Avenue and zigzagged north and west, moving with pedestrian and vehicular traffic until he reached Bijan’s building on Fifth Avenue. He punched in a security code, went in and locked the door behind him.