He recalled wistfully how much fun it was to go to work every morning. Life today was just the opposite of the turmoil at WT&C. He was so happy traveling around the world to make acquisitions for such a respected gallery – his gallery – that working anywhere else was almost unthinkable. Now, however, the clock would start ticking. His time at Bijan was nearly over.
Chapter Twenty
Christopher called Brian as soon as the plane landed at JFK. Brian gave him the news and offered heartfelt condolences at the loss of their father. Christopher decided they’d go directly to their father’s apartment instead of coming to the gallery. Later today the men would meet with Brian.
When Collette and Jason arrived at the gallery, they hugged and cried together, mourning the loss of an employer, a business partner and a good friend. Each tried to work but ended up remembering Darius with a few long-time customers who dropped by after hearing the news. It was hard for Brian – he felt enormous pain and sadness. He would miss Darius Nazir very much. He would also miss the opportunity this unique man had given him.
At 2:30 pm Christopher rang and made arrangements to meet at the gallery. Collette and Jason had met them previously; they hugged the brothers and more tears were shed. Brian was surprised at how much they resembled their father. He told them sincerely how much Brian’s mentor and friend had meant to him.
Brian wasn’t sure what the subject of conversation would be so he seated them in his office and waited for them to begin. Christopher said Detective Patterson asked if there would be an autopsy. Given the circumstances of his death, they decided against it. His body had been taken to a funeral home. Tom Nazir explained that his father wasn’t a religious man. He would be cremated and a memorial service held Monday at the funeral parlor.
Tom told Brian his father spoke of him and commented on the sincere friendship Darius and Brian had forged in such a short time.
“My father is a fairly private man but we could hear the delight in his voice every time we talked. Once you arrived he was truly happy, which he hadn’t been in a long time, perhaps even since our mother died.”
The Nazir brothers revealed astonishing news to Brian. Just in the past month their father had made provisions for succession. He’d told his sons he had done this only after he was convinced Brian was the right partner for him and the gallery.
“The company owns a $5 million life insurance policy on my father,” Christopher explained. “It’s payable to his estate for the sole purpose of repurchasing his stock.”
Brian sat dazed as he heard what his partner had done for him. It was a simple plan – once the gallery paid $5 million to Darius Nazir’s estate, the share certificate owned by Nazir would be cancelled, leaving Brian with nearly seventy percent of the shares, everything not owned by the public. That majority interest meant Brian had absolute control of the company.
A simple solution, Brian reflected, put into place by a very generous man. Darius had created a way for Brian to own the gallery without having to pay anything. And he hadn’t even mentioned it to Brian. He sobbed uncontrollably, his head in his hands. “I can’t believe it. An hour ago I had no idea what I’d do next. What a gift your father left me. What an incredible man.”
Tom spoke softly. “He was, for sure. It’s exactly what my father wanted for you. He would be so proud to have you carry on the Bijan tradition.”
They talked for another half hour, then the Nazir brothers left to visit relatives and prepare for the funeral of their beloved father.
Chapter Twenty-One
Bijan Rarities was closed Monday for Darius Nazir’s funeral. Once it was over Brian turned on his phone and saw a text message.
“Payback completed.”
Suddenly he was lightheaded. He swayed and Collette grabbed his arm. “You look like you’ve just seen a ghost. Are you all right?”
“Yes…yes, I’m OK,” Brian stammered, pocketing his phone. “I…I just…”
At that moment John Spedino approached him, extending his hand. “My condolences at the passing of Mr. Nazir.”
Jumbled thoughts swirled through Brian’s head. First there’s a cryptic text message. Then Spedino appears thirty seconds later. Brian didn’t say a word. He just stared at the godfather, speechless.
Spedino turned and walked to the curb. His driver opened the car door for him and they drove away.
That afternoon Brian took his cell phone to a computer center and asked a technician how he could tell the number from which the message was sent.
The tech checked a few settings and said, “It appears to have been sent from a blocked number in the 306 area code.” He looked at a cross-reference guide. “That’s Saskatchewan, Canada.”
As he walked back Brian thought about the earlier calls from the man with the gravelly voice. They seemed to have come from all over. Anyone could route a call to hide its origin by using Skype or something else. Just like those calls, there was no way to know where the text originated.
Chapter Twenty-Two
The death of Darius Nazir started a new chapter in the life of Brian Sadler. In less than seven months he had gone from investment banker to business owner. For a boy from Longview, Texas, he had come a long, long way. Sitting alone in the darkened showroom after the funeral, gray afternoon slowly turning to drizzly winter evening, he looked around him at the gallery Darius Nazir had created, a thriving business that now was his. Thoughts swirled through his head.
It was Monday, December 18. Christmas day was a week away and he found himself randomly moving from highs to lows in his mind. Things had happened almost too easily: one day he worked for Darius. The next, thanks to a fortuitous set of events, he owned the gallery. One day he was a guy still learning the ropes, next day he was the boss, calling the shots.
Once again he recalled the words on his cell phone. Was someone saying they’d killed Darius to pave his way to becoming Bijan’s owner? The police said Nazir died of natural causes. If there had been any hint of foul play wouldn’t the detective have been all over it? Now the body was gone, cremated. None of that made sense anyway. Who would want to kill Darius Nazir?
Brian put aside the negative thoughts and began thinking about Christmas.
Nicole called to see how he was doing. She would like to have been with him but her trial couldn’t be delayed. At the time of Darius’ funeral she was in a courtroom defending her client.
Earlier they’d talked about Darius’ generous method for Brian to assume ownership of Bijan. Today they spoke of the generosity of the man she’d come to enjoy and appreciate spending time with. He had been a true friend and a great partner.
He didn’t tell her about the cryptic “payback” message. Maybe later, he thought, once he figured it out himself.
Tonight they discussed the holidays. Her office and Bijan would both be closed Friday through Tuesday. He’d fly to Dallas Thursday night and stay with her. By late Friday he would go home to Longview, about a hundred miles east. She would go see her dad in Fort Worth, then fly to Houston on Saturday to spend the holiday with her mother and sister. They’d meet back up in Dallas on Christmas night and he would fly to New York on Tuesday.
“Get some rest, honey,” Nicole said. “You’ve been under a lot of pressure and now you’ve got a new set of things to think about as the sole owner of the gallery. I’m pleased for you, and I can’t wait to see you. Just a few more days!”
Brian took a quiet, dark walk through the gallery, thinking of Darius everywhere he looked. Finally he locked up and walked to Peking Duck House on 53rd Street. It was the place Darius had taken him the day they met and it had become his favorite Chinese restaurant. He considered it a fitting place to be on the day of Darius’ funeral.
Chapter Twenty-Three
Thursday came and Brian headed to Texas for Christmas. He picked up a rental car at DFW and drove to Nicole’s apartment. She’d only been home a few minutes when he arrived but she’d worked fast. She had his XO martini waiting. They had
been apart for weeks and there was a brief period of hesitation. Nicole had consciously decided not to bring up the bearer bond proposition he’d outlined. We don’t have much time together, she thought. Let’s save business for later.
They talked about dinner, decided neither was that hungry and shortly ended up where they both wanted to be, naked and entwined in her bed.
Friday morning was crisp and cold. Nicole went for a run most mornings. Today Brian joined her, noting how few cars there were on the streets. A lot of people had obviously already started a long Christmas weekend. They ended up at Starbucks for coffee and then walked a block back to her place.
“I’d like you to open your gift,” she said, back in bed with the morning paper and a fresh cup of coffee. She handed him an envelope. “It’s not much, but I think it’s something you’ll like.”
Brian tore it open. Out fell two tickets to what had been advertised everywhere as the Honest-to-God, last ever, Pink Floyd Final Concert. Entertainment websites said the concert, scheduled for London in the spring, was the hardest event in history to snag a ticket for.
“Incredible! I can’t believe it! How on earth did you get these?”
“I know what a fan you are from the posters are on your bedroom wall, and I’ve obviously been in your bedroom,” she laughed. “The firm represents a company that booked the concert and I was able to get two tickets. Do you like my gift?”
“It’s fantastic! I can hardly wait. But there are two tickets. I wonder who I can get to go with me?”
She hit him on the arm and jumped on top of him. “I’m going with you unless you have some little twenty-something up there in New York you’re hiding away.”
“Well, I guess I have to take you. After all, you gave me the tickets. Seriously, thanks so much. This will be a wonderful trip.” He kissed her deeply.
He pulled an envelope from his computer case by the bed. “Now open your present.”
“Another envelope? You’re copying me!”
Inside was a booklet Brian had created on his computer. The front cover said, “Join me at the 4-S Resort.”
Nicole stared at it for a minute. “The 4-S Resort? I’ve never heard of it. Where is it?”
“Keep going.”
The first page had a big S, and a clip art picture showing snow falling. “So the first S is snow,” she said. The next page featured another big S and a picture of people skiing.
“Oh, boy!” She turned the page. There was another S and a scenic shot of the Alps. At the bottom were the words, “Welcome to Switzerland.” Now she was really excited. She turned to the last page.
The last big S had no picture. At the bottom were small words that said, “Let’s go to Switzerland and Ski in the Snow. When we get back to our room, I bet you can figure out what the fourth S is.”
She looked at him, laughing. “Yeah, I would say our sex is so good it deserves a capital S.”
“You got it, babe.”
She turned to him, pulling off her sweatshirt and unhooking her sports bra. “That’s a great present, sweetie. And you’re so incredibly clever, making the book yourself. I just love the idea of a ski vacation! I’ve never been to Switzerland, but I’m ready to go with you whenever we can work it out.”
She tugged down her sweatpants and panties, kicking them off onto the floor. “Get your clothes off, buddy. Let’s practice on the last S, then we can talk about when we’re going skiing!”
Part Four
Chapter One
Eze Village, French Riviera
Eze Village is a beautiful medieval town situated high on a cliff overlooking the Mediterranean Sea. The busy Moyenne Corniche, one of three main roads between Nice and the principality of Monaco, runs below it. Tourists come to see the ruins of the twelfth century castle and have lunch at taverns along the town’s narrow winding streets.
The man sat outdoors, sipping coffee and reading Le Monde, as was his routine. He lived nearby and walked here every day. He didn’t notice two men standing half a block down the little street. They used a photo to confirm his identity and then crossed the street.
There were only a few patrons sitting in the outdoor restaurant at this early hour. The man looked up from his newspaper as they approached.
“Francois Rochefort,” one said, “we are from the Surete and you are under arrest.”
Chapter Two
Including the long weekend they spent in London for the Pink Floyd Final Concert, Brian and Nicole managed to see each other only four times in five months. Twice Brian returned from a trip to Europe on the American flight to Dallas instead of going to New York. They spent the weekend together those times. She had had a business trip to New York once and went a second time on the spur of the moment.
The date for their ski trip had been set and postponed twice. They finally decided to put it off until the fall because of the difficulty coordinating their schedules. Nicole and Brian talked about where things were going with them. They decided their relationship, if it could be called that, was far less than ideal, but with their careers, if it were meant to be, it’d happen.
One evening in New York Nicole said, “If we’re supposed to be together then it’ll all work out. Absence makes the heart grow fonder, they say.”
Brian snorted, agreeing that this beat nothing, but not by much. Neither of them could see a way to change things so things stayed as they were.
Chapter Three
In mid-February Chaim Weisenberg left Brian a message, asking him to call regarding “The Project.”
Interesting, Brian thought. That was John Spedino’s code name for the bond deal. How did Weisenberg know the name since he’d said he didn’t know the godfather? At this point it really didn’t matter. Brian was confident everything would be fine, and he no longer had a reluctant partner to convince.
The bonds were ready for transfer whenever Brian executed the paperwork, Weisenberg told him. The transaction would take about ten days from start to finish.
Brian had heard nothing from Spedino about the relics themselves. The rumors of the existence of a Bethlehem scroll, an account of Christ’s birth, surfaced from time to time. And in the past couple of weeks a man had called from Cairo asking for Darius. Brian looked him up in Darius’ massive Rolodex as he explained that Darius had passed away and he was now owner of the gallery.
The Egyptian responded, “But I do not know you. We must meet when you are next in Egypt. Until then, I will say that I have some information about a scroll naming Jesus himself that may become available. I will tell you no more until we can meet.”
Collette had been urging Brian to make a trip to Egypt. “You’ve met so many of our contacts and sources already, but only in Western Europe and China. I can set all your appointments. In a week you can establish a relationship with everyone Mr. Nazir dealt with in Egypt.”
Soon Collette had set up an appointment for Brian with the man from Egypt. The new owner of Bijan Rarities would be in Cairo soon.
Salid Mushtaf spent hours considering how best to approach the sale of the rarities. He was merely an intermediary but he knew who owned the three relics. He placed a call to the man. As always, the man’s voice shook Salid for a fleeting moment. It was rough, gravelly and menacing – impossible to overlook.
Salid said he could help him sell the relics. Without admitting he had them, he replied, “What business is this of yours?”
Salid was in contact with one of the top galleries in the world, he said. It was a firm that could and would purchase the items.
The man laughed. “You? Do you think a man like yourself has contacts that I do not already have?” Then the man paused. “Perhaps a worm like yourself may have value to me after all. Meet the person from this gallery. If you have anything interesting afterwards, call me at once.” He hung up, leaving Salid to wonder if his having made the call was a good idea or not.
Chapter Four
Three weeks later Brian sat in the lobby of the Nile Hilton. Taste
fully decorated in white marble, the expansive area was a quiet haven from the bustling activity just outside the front doors. He wore a tan linen suit with a yellow tie. He had described what he would wear to the man he was meeting. Soon someone approached him – a man wearing a white galabeyeh and a light blue scarf on his head.
“Mr. Sadler?”
Brian stood, introduced himself and asked if they should move into the bar for a drink.
“Not for me, sir. I am a practicing Muslim and I must abstain in order to be ready for evening prayers shortly.”
So they sat in the lobby. The man said his name was Salid Mushtaf. He asked Brian about Darius. He said how much he had respected Nazir, a fellow Egyptian and a man of integrity in his dealings.
“I have located artifacts for him. I have given him clues about the whereabouts of others. I have passed along rumors. He has always generously rewarded me for whatever thing I did to help him. He made we Egyptians, his fellow countrymen, proud to be associated with him.”
Brian had heard similar comments from others. Nazir had played the relics game close to the edge – even over it sometimes. Regardless, he treated his contacts well, paying careful attention to those who could help most. In turn they might call him first when that unique artifact appeared.
After coffee and small talk about America, Brian eased into the topic.
“Tell me about the Bethlehem Scroll.”
Mushtaf looked all around him and lowered his voice to a whisper, even though there were only a dozen other people in the massive lobby, none nearby. He told Brian that there was a man who had three relics associated with the birth of Jesus.
Brian Sadler Archaeological Mysteries BoxSet Page 21